


Cricket

by sabershadowkat



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first days of the apocalypse arrive and make Xander see Spike in a different light.<br/>Post The Replacement</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cricket

p>

**Cricket**

  


#####  [by Saber ShadowKitten](mailto:daschus@attbi.com)

 

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Part One**    
  
  
  
  
  


_I'm in love with Xander_.   
  


Spike hit the enter key and watched as his typed message appeared in the AOL Instant Messaging window. He leaned his head back against the rock wall in the cavern beneath his crypt and rubbed his eyes. The laptop he'd scavenged from the garbage dump and repaired was perched on his lap, an extension cord and telephone line leading from the back of the computer to the splices he'd made in the city lines that ran beneath Sunnydale's streets. It hadn't been hard to do. The UC Sunnydale library had books on practically everything.   
  


The white-blond vampire lived half the time below ground, in the natural cavern beneath the crypt. He'd purchased an old army cot and blanket from a garage sale, and scavenged several tables, lamps, and a bookcase from the dump. He'd left his chair and television in the crypt. Better reception.   
  


The computer beeped at him and he opened his eyes. His AIM 'Buddy' had answered his declaration.   
  


_angeldoesntpaymeenough: You're what?!!_    
  


Chuckling in self-depreciation, Spike typed in his reply.   
  


_cricket818: Don't make me say it again. Please._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Please? Wow, do you have it bad._

_cricket818: Yes. Stake me?_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: lol. What is it about Xander that makes normally sane people fall for him?_

_cricket818: His ass. And his smile. And the way his eyes sparkle with gold when he's being possessive..._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Do you want to be alone?_

_cricket818: lol._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: So, are you going to tell him?_

_cricket818: Not under penalty of Angel singing._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Why not?_

_cricket818: He's got a chit, remember?_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: And?_

_cricket818: He's not gay. Not even slightly bent._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: And?_

_cricket818: He loathes me._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: And?_

_cricket818: And... I'm too scared._    
  


Spike knew by admitting that he was scared -- terrified, actually -- completely ruined the tough guy, no holds barred image he projected. Then again, Cordelia had figured out it was an image ages ago. Not that he wasn't a badass; he most definitely was, but that's not  _all_  he was. He was also a romantic. A lover. A man who cared more than a vampire should. Someone who hated to be alone.

He was also a bloody coward.   
  


_cricket818: Damn it, Cordelia, I hate this._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Being in love with Xander, or being too scared to tell him?_

_cricket818: Either. Both. I've never been in love with a mortal before. Or another bloke._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: And you chose_ Xander _as your guinea pig?_

 _cricket818: *growls* No. I didn't choose Xander. It just sort of happened._    
  


Spike remembered the day he realized he was in love with Xander clearly, even though it was over a month ago. Everyone had been gearing up to slay the Super-sized version of the demon-of-the-week, loading down with weapons and spell ingredients at the Magic Box. Spike had been in the back, retrieving his favorite axe which he'd left propped by the rear door. When he'd returned to the front, everyone had already left... without him.   
  


It had hurt, worse than it should have. He'd been working with the Slayer and the other Misfits of Science off and on for years, helping them fight the bigger evils that descended on Sunnydale. Although they weren't all bosom buddies, he'd thought that he was somewhat part of the group. At least, enough of a part that they'd  _wait_  for him.   
  


Spike had just swallowed back the hurt when the shop door had opened. Xander had appeared in the doorway and scanned the store until his gaze landed on Spike.   
  


"There you are," he'd said. "I told them you went to find your favorite axe." He gestured irritatingly for Spike to join him. "Get your ass in gear, slowpoke. We've got an Oabert to kill."   
  


Spike had fallen then, in a blink of impatient coffee-colored eyes. Xander had not only waited, but knew why he was waiting. For some reason, Xander's knowing that Spike had a favorite weapon hit the vampire squarely in the heart. And he'd been falling deeper and deeper in love with the other man every day since.   
  


"Spike?"   
  


Spike heard Dawn's call from up in the crypt, and he yelled back, "Down here, Dawn!"   
  


_cricket818:_   _Got to go. Bite-sized is here._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Okay. When you tell Xander, I want to be first to know, understand?_

_cricket818: *big sigh* Yes, Cordelia._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Bye._

_cricket818: Bye. Give the old man a wedgie for me._    
  


Spike logged off as Dawn came down the ladder. She joined him on his cot, folding her long legs like a pretzel. The eighteen year old, recent high school graduate had grown out of her coltishness and into a lithesome beauty. She was a boy-magnet. She was also a bitch. Spike adored her.   
  


"What's up, luv?" the peroxide-blond asked, leaning forward to slide the laptop under the cot.   
  


"Giles's blood pressure," Dawn quipped. She pulled a battered pack of smokes from her back jeans pocket and offered him one before lighting up herself. "The Council of Assholes sent a 'missive,'" she sneered, complete with finger quotes. "And Buffy and Giles are now going to England like good little marionettes. Willow and Tara are going with them."   
  


"But not you." Spike smirked knowingly.   
  


"But not me," Dawn echoed. She took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled as she spoke. "And get this: Buffy wants Xander to  _babysit_  me while they're gone."   
  


Spike managed not to look to perky at the sound of Xander's name. "Really? How awful."   
  


"Majorly," Dawn agreed. "I'm eighteen, for hell's sake. What does she think I'm going to do, have sex in her bed?" She snorted. "Too late."   
  


"Dawn! For shame," Spike teased. "Having sex in your very own sister's bed. I hope he left come-stains."   
  


"On the pillow." Dawn grinned evilly. "Buffy thought she'd spilled hand lotion."   
  


Spike laughed. "You're all right, pet."   
  


They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, enjoying their cigarettes.   
  


"So, are you going to help me get rid of the Xander-sitter?" Dawn eventually asked.   
  


"Don't think I can, Dawn. You know how much Buffy listens to me," Spike said, even though he'd be happy to tie Xander to his bed for however long Buffy was away. "Best you can do is think of him as the house-sitter."   
  


Dawn slumped unhappily. "Hell." She crushed her smoke out on the bottom of her Converse and unfolded herself from the cot. "Want to come over and annoy Buffy while she packs?"   
  


"Sure, ducks," Spike said, rising as well. He slung an arm over her shoulder as they headed for the ladder. "Maybe I can convince big sis you're too old for a sitter. If not, we can nick all her unmentionables from her suitcase."   
  


*****   
  


Spike couldn't convince Buffy that Dawn didn't need a sitter, but Dawn finagled permission to have whomever she wanted to stay over, too, while the Slayer was gone. The second Buffy had left the room, Dawn asked Spike. Crafty little chit, his Dawn was.   
  


It was odd, having two girls like Dawn and Cordelia as his best mates. Hell, it was bloody odd having humans he classified as friends. But he had two: both female, both bitches, and both who didn't mind that he was a tasteless bastard with a teddy bear heart. Cordelia was the friend he could confide in, and Dawn he played with -- in the very non-sexual connotation of the word. Talking about sex with her was fine, but the thought of actually having intercourse with her gave him the creeps.   
  


Things probably would've been different if Joyce hadn't died when Dawn was fifteen. Spike highly doubted that Joyce would allow her little girl to become the bint she was today. But Joyce had died and Buffy had done the best she could raising her sister. Dawn was a bit rough around the edges, but she didn't get in trouble with the law... at least, not with Spike watching her six. Buffy blamed Spike's friendship for a lot of Dawn's attitude. Spike was happy to agree with the Slayer on that count.   
  


Xander arrived at the Summers' residence two nights later, shortly before Buffy was due to leave. Spike was already there, having squirreled away some of his clothing in Dawn's room for the 'sleepover party.' He and Dawn were sitting on the stairs, side by side, listening as Buffy instructed Xander's ear off in the front hall. Well, Dawn was listening, Spike was really looking at Xander's ass.   
  


Finally, Buffy left with a last, "Don't burn the house down," and Xander turned to the two sitting on the steps and stared hard at the vampire. "Spike, why are you here?" he asked.   
  


"Didn't you hear? Buffy said Dawn could have someone stay over." Spike laid his head on Dawn's shoulder and smiled innocently. "Guess who she invited."   
  


"Oh, no," Xander shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no. Huh-uh. Not happening, pal."   
  


Spike and Dawn exchanged looks, scrambled to their feet and up the stairs to her room. The bedroom door slamming was their response to Xander.   
  


Laughing, Spike threw himself on Dawn's bed. Dawn sprawled on her chair, reached under her desk where the mini-fridge was hidden, pulled out two lemonades -- Mike's Hard Lemonade, to be precise -- and pitched one to him.   
  


"Question: how do you know if you're in love with someone?" Dawn asked, twisting off the bottle cap and taking a draught of her vodka-heavy lemonade.   
  


Spike twisted the cap on his bottle right across the room. He watched as it hit the postered bedroom door and bounce harmlessly on the carpet. "Erm... is there a particular reason, or are you just asking?"   
  


She kicked off her shoes, leaned back on two legs of the chair, and plonked her feet on the desk. "There might be a guy," she replied mysteriously. "A tall, dark, handsome, funny guy."   
  


"And this guy, do I know him?" Spike tilted the bottle of hard lemonade to his lips.   
  


"He's babysitting us."   
  


Oh, look: a spit-take.   
  


Dawn practically fell off the chair, laughing. "Oh man, the look on your face! I wish I had a camera!"   
  


"Cunt," Spike growled at her, grabbing a handful of tissues to mop up the mess.   
  


"The sweetest," Dawn grinned unrepentantly.   
  


After a moment, he ventured casually, "You, ah, were joking, right?"   
  


"Of course I was kidding." She made a face. "C'mon, it's  _Xander._  Once upon a time I thought he was delish, but now," she shuddered, "ick, eew, and blech. Who in their right mind would want him?"   
  


"Who, indeed?" Spike murmured.   
  


"Besides that cow Anya," she continued, not hearing him. She lit up a cigarette and stretched her feet out on the desk again. "Gods, I can't stand that bitch."   
  


"She does leave a nasty taste in your mouth," he said. The wet tissues were pitched in the trash and he got comfortable again. He caught the magazine Dawn tossed to him, and they fell into their ususal companionable routine, when they weren't busy helping to save the world.   
  


*****   
  


Dawn had the stereo cranked.  _Metallica_  rattled the windows and made the knick-knacks dance. The shared ashtray was full of cigarette butts. Empty bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade filled the garbage can. Read and discarded magazines were in a sloppy pile at the end of the bed.   
  


"Check it: the Louvre is adding Miguel Ancien's sculptures to their collection," Dawn read. She thumped the art magazine on her thighs. "What I wouldn't give to be able to go to Paris."   
  


"What's stopping you?" Spike held his hand up in the light, critically studying his half-painted nails. Gary Glitter Gold and Blue. He couldn't decide if he liked.   
  


"Uh, hello, there's a little thing called 'No Money'," Dawn replied. "Plus, Buffy would never let me go alone."   
  


"You're eighteen, pet," he said. "Last I checked, in America that meant you could tell your sis to sod off."   
  


"I could," she agreed, then sighed. "But then there'd be guilt, and guilt causes breakouts, and I'm so not going to spend my time in Paris looking like a walking zit."   
  


"Hmm." Spike carefully brushed the nail polish across the thumbnail on his left hand. "Maybe she'd let you go if you went with someone."   
  


Dawn chuckled. "Yeah. Do you think Xander'd take an overseas babysitting job?"   
  


Spike managed not to get gold polish smeared across his finger when his hand twitched. Cor, he was pathetic. "Don't know, ducks. You'd have to ask him."   
  


The bedroom door opened, and Speak Of The Devil popped his dark head inside. "Hey," Xander said over the music. "Do the band members want pizza?"   
  


Dawn used her toe to turn down the volume on the stereo. "Nah, they don't want any. Which means more for me."   
  


Xander gave Spike an amused look as he entered the bedroom, a large cardboard pizza box in hand. "Are you sure you want a boy crashing your Girls Night In party?"   
  


Spike gestured rudely with his newly painted nails. Inside he quivered, a normal occurrence nowadays in Xander's presence.   
  


Dawn joined Xander on the floor after passing out boring-old sodas. Careful of his wet nails, Spike popped the tab and took a sip.   
  


"So what are you two ladies gabbing about?" Xander asked.   
  


"Paris," Dawn said, passing a slice of pizza to Spike, "and how to get me there."   
  


Xander was watching Spike intently, a suspicious smirk tugging one corner of his mouth. It made Spike none-too-comfortable. "What're you looking at?" the blond growled.   
  


Xander lifted a shoulder in a shrug, and bit into his pizza. "Eat up, Spike, before it gets cold," he said around a mouthful.   
  


"Hey, Xander, can we rent some movies tonight?" Dawn asked.   
  


"Sure," Xander agreed. "Anything in particular?"   
  


"A horror flick, so we can make fun of it," she replied.   
  


"How 'bout  _Curse of Spider Island_?" Spike suggested, biting into the slice of pizza. "Bad music, worse acting, and--"   
  


"Spike, what's wrong?!" Dawn said in panic when Spike suddenly scrambled off the bed. The soda spilled on the floor. The pizza slice he'd held in his hand landed face down on the bed.   
  


Spike found the garbage can and spit out the pizza. Heaving and hacking, he lost the contents of his stomach. Mike's Hard Lemonade tasted like piss on the way back up. It hurt coming out his nose and tears fell from his eyes, dripping into the disgusting, soupy mixture coating the liquor bottles and the sides of the garbage can.   
  


He felt a hand on his back and he shook it off. Stumbling to his feet, he hurried out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. His mouth felt like it was burning, and the back of his throat was raw and blistering. He quickly rushed to the sink, threw on the faucet, and stuck his face under the heavy stream. He gulped warm water and spit it out over and over again, until the burning had finally stopped.   
  


Spike turned off the water, wiped his face with a dish towel, and threw it on the island counter. He went outside onto the small back stoop and sat on the top step. He lit up a cigarette with wildly shaking hands. Hell, he smeared his nail polish. He took an unsteady pull on his fag, then coughed and spit when the smoke irritated his throat.   
  


The back door opened and Spike tensed as someone with footsteps too heavy to be Dawn's came outside. "Gods, Spike, I'm so sorry," Xander said immediately. He crossed to Spike's side, sat down, and put his hand on Spike's knee. "Are you okay?"   
  


Spike looked at the hand on his leg. Five minutes ago, he would've given his kidney for Xander to touch him like this, but now... he'd still give his kidney. He didn't use the bloody organ anyway.   
  


"I thought the garlic crust would just burn your tongue a little," Xander continued. "You know: ha-ha, practical joke on Spike the vampire. Everyone'd get a good laugh."   
  


"Everyone, meaning you," Spike rasped.   
  


Xander winced. "I'm sorry," he apologized again. "Really sorry. I didn't know it would hurt you that way."   
  


Spike drew on the cigarette, coughed and spit again, then flicked the fag away. His hand still shook as he put it on top of Xander's, but for an entirely different reason: Xander was touching him! The vampire looked directly at the other man, and said, "Apology accepted."   
  


Xander nibbled his lower lip, worry written across his face. "Are you okay?" he asked a second time.   
  


"Yeah," Spike croaked, more because he wanted to be the nibbler of that pouty lip. "You, though, got quite the shiner."   
  


The brunette used his free hand to touch his bright red right eye and surrounding cheek. He chuckled. "Dawn sure knows how to punch."   
  


Spike grinned proudly. "That's my girl."   
  


Xander studied the vampire for a moment. "You aren't , uh, you know... slipping beneath the sheets with Dawnie, are you?"   
  


"Cor, no," Spike replied instantly. "The Slugger's just a mate, nothing more."   
  


"Good," Xander said. "I'd hate to pull babysitter's rank and kick you out."   
  


"I think trying to kill me was an effective enough deterrent, Harris," Spike said wryly.   
  


Xander's hand tightened on Spike's knee, and he looked extremely upset again. Spike's insides melted faster than the garlic crust would've done. Bugger, he had it bad.   
  


"It's okay," Spike said seriously, gently squeezing the large, strong hand beneath his. "I'm a tad more reactionary to garlic than most vampires. Trade off for being able to stay longer in the sun, I reckon."   
  


"You sure?"   
  


Spike nodded. "I'll be right as rain in a few hours. No worries."   
  


"'Kay." Xander stood. "I'm going back inside and ice this eye. You coming?"   
  


"In a minute."   
  


Xander gave the blond a slightly pained smile, then went inside the house. The second the door closed, still sitting, Spike moved his sock-clad feet in an intricate dance step on the stair below him. Xander was concerned about his well-being! Yes, Xander was the cause of that concern, but what says 'I love you' more than trying to kill your intended? For a vampire, anyway. Which meant Spike actually had a chance with Xander!   
  


A grin of unmitigated proportions stretched across Spike's face as he bounced to his feet. He danced Fred Astaire-style down and up the few steps a couple times before boogieing to the kitchen door. Then he squared his shoulders, lost the smile, and went inside.   
  
  
  


**Part Two**    
  
  
  


Dawn and Xander went to the video store, leaving the 'grievously injured' Spike at the Summers' residence. The vampire prepared a mug of blood, using the stash he kept in Dawn's mini-fridge, and logged onto her computer to kill time until they returned. AOL was nice in that he could use his own screen name and password at any computer that used the same Internet provider, such as Dawn.   
  


_cricket818: He touched me!_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Hello to you, too. And I take it you mean Xander._

_cricket818: :-) He touched me!_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: You're such a girl._

_cricket818: Yes, I know. But he actually touched me. A good touch._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough:_   _A 'good' touch? Lol._

_cricket818: I feel like I'm going to burst._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Don't you dare flog your pole while talking with me._

_cricket818: Not *that* kind of bursting. Though I plan to do that later in the Slayer's bed. Bad me._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: *rolls eyes*_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Wait, you're at Buffy's?_

_cricket818: Yeah. Buffy's gone off to the mother-country, leaving Dawn here. I'm spending the night._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: You mean you're sleeping over. You're such a girl._

_cricket818: Only you could call me that and live._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Yeah, yeah, yeah._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Now, details. Why did Xander Good Touch you?_

_cricket818: He was comforting me after he almost killed me._

_cricket818:*sigh* It's so nice to be able to talk about this, after keeping mum for so long._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: I repeat. Again. You are *such* a girl._

_cricket818: Cordelia._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: So tell: what did you do to make him try to kill you this time?_

_cricket818: Nothing. He fed me garlic-laced pizza on purpose._

_cricket818: I'm in love._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Vampires are so weird._

_cricket818: You're just realizing this now?_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: No. I realized it when Angel came wandering through the lobby wearing floral Bermuda shorts and flip-flops. He was going 'moonbathing.' I called in sick the next day._    
  


Spike laughed out loud. The image of his uptight pseudo-sire wearing floral anything was hilarious. And moonbathing??!   
  


_angeldoesntpaymeenough: jhn mhfas;_

_cricket818: What?_    
  


Cordelia didn't reply, and after two minutes of no response, Spike became worried. His hand itched to pick up the phone and call to see if she was okay. If she'd had a vision, it would explain her silence. But waiting had never been his strong suit.   
  


"We're back," Xander announced unnecessarily as he walked into the bedroom. "Dawn wants to know if you want popcorn."   
  


"No," Spike replied, tapping his finger nervously on the mouse. He didn't remove his eyes from the screen, not even when Xander came to look over his shoulder.   
  


"You know how to use a computer?" Xander said, astonished.   
  


"I'm not a moron, Harris." Spike silently sighed in relief when a message appeared in the AIM window.   
  


_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Sorry. Vision. Mucho ow-o._

_cricket818: Harris and the twerp are back and looking over my shoulder._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Got it. I have to go anyway. Bye._

_cricket818: Bye._    
  


"Cricket?" Xander snickered in Spike's ear, sending shivers down his spine, as the vampire logged off. "Your screen name is 'cricket'?"   
  


"It's Dawn's," Spike lied.   
  


"Huh-uh. Hers is 'dead butterflies,'" Xander said. "And Buffy's is 'world saving fool,' so don't even try and lie again."   
  


Spike spun on his seat and looked up at Xander. He was very close. Quiver, quiver. The vampire affected a bland expression, and explained, "You caught me. I'm 'cricket.'"   
  


Xander laughed derisively. "How did you chose  _that_  name?"   
  


"From a book," Spike said, sounding affronted. " _'A Cricket in Times Square_.' It's about a cricket who can play symphonies with his back legs, and everyone thinks he's the bloody shit. He lets his fame go to his head, then gets knocked down a peg or three and learns about what's really important. Kind of metaphorical, don't you think?"   
  


Xander looked adorable when he was befuddled. "Are you serious?"   
  


Spike shrugged. "Could also be because a cricket hopped on my bed while I was choosing my screen name."   
  


Xander blinked several times as his brain caught on to what he'd heard. Then he started to laugh again, a deep, rich sound of genuine mirth. "Spike, you never cease to boggle my mind."   
  


Spike's heart fluttered and he grinned dopily. Cordelia was right: he was such a girl.   
  


*****   
  


The phone rang partway through the movie that had been rented. Dawn purposely kicked Spike in the head as she went to answer it, calling a sickeningly sweet, "Sorry," over her shoulder.   
  


"I can't believe how much you let her get away with," Xander commented from his seat on the couch. "If I did that, you'd try to rip my foot off before the chip zapped you."   
  


Spike craned his neck to look back at Xander. "She's my friend. You're not. See the difference?"   
  


The brunette's brows shot up to his hairline, but before he could say anything Dawn returned with the portable phone in her hand. "Spike, Angel wants to talk to you," she said.   
  


Frowning, Spike rolled to his feet and took the proffered phone. "What's up, Pops?" he said into the receiver as he started out of the living room.   
  


"Will you not call me that?" Angel said exasperatedly over the line.   
  


Spike could picture Angel's irritated expression and the blond grinned. Getting under his sire's skin was one of the few simple pleasures in life. "Not a chance."   
  


Angel sighed, then got right to the point. "Can you come up here and translate for us? Cordelia had a vision, and she wrote out something in Irushk."   
  


"That the vision she had earlier this evening?" Spike inquired, already putting his battered Docs on. His sire only requested assistance if it was really needed, and Spike had made a silent promise to help when asked after Angel had tried to remove the behavior modification chip. The operation hadn't worked, but the fact that Angel had tried meant more to Spike than the older vampire would ever know.   
  


"Yes." Angel sounded surprised. "How did you know?"   
  


"I was on AIM with her when she had it," the blond replied. "I assumed that's why you knew I was here."   
  


"No, but that answers a different question," Angel said.   
  


"Right." Spike stood and walked into the kitchen. "I'll be there in a couple hours."   
  


"Thanks," Angel said, then disconnected.   
  


Spike put the phone in its cradle, then headed back to the living room. His opened his mouth to tell them he was leaving, and saw a flash of disappointment and sadness fly across Dawn's face before the mask of cool indifference returned. Mentally calling himself all sorts of synonyms for "soft," he said, "Anyone up for a trip to L.A.?"   
  


Dawn bounced to her feet before he'd finished the sentence. "I'll get our stuff."   
  


Spike shook his head as he watched her disappear up the stairs. He turned back to Xander, and a stupidly brilliant idea formed in his mind. "Well, Mr. Babysitter, would you like to come, too?"   
  


Surprise lit Xander's features. "To L.A.?"   
  


"No, to Mars."   
  


"Right. Stupid me." Xander rubbed his palms on his thighs. "I have no problems with going, but Anya has to stay and run The Magick Box."   
  


"I didn't invite Anya, Xander," Spike said pointedly. "I invited you."   
  


"I don't know," Xander hemmed. "I'll have to call An--"   
  


Spike held up his hand, interrupting, "Forget it, Harris. I should've known the leash only went so far."   
  


It was nice to know humans could be so predictable. Xander shot to his feet, scowl on his boyishly handsome face. "I am _not_  on a leash," he stated. "I can go where I want, when I want, and I'm coming with to L.A."   
  


With an emphatic nod, he stomped past Spike and up the stairs. Spike waited until the boy was out of sight, then smiled gleefully. This was perfect. He'd have Xander away from Sunnydale and its trappings, including the ex-demon cow, for at least an entire night and day, during which time he'd do... absolutely nothing, because he was a big chicken with bleached feathers. But, Xander would witness him performing Good Deeds, which might make the brunette start to think differently about him, eventually resulting in great sex. Spike was all for anything that resulted in great sex with Xander.   
  


Xander and Dawn came downstairs one right after the other. Spike took his duffle from Dawn and grabbed his duster from the coatrack. "Everyone set?" Nods all around. "Then we're off."   
  
  
  


**Part Three**    
  
  
  
  
  


Spike and Dawn were friends. Real friends. The type of friends Xander used to be with Willow and Buffy before adulthood and significant others intruded.   
  


Xander was both amazed and confounded by their friendship. Buffy complained about Spike hanging around, but not often enough to connect the vampire, friendship, and Dawn. Xander was probably the only one who didn't ignore Spike at Scooby meetings, but since Dawn rarely helped with Slayer business, Xander also didn't have an opportunity to observe Spike and her together and see how strong their relationship really was.   
  


Xander lightly touched his black eye. Their relationship was  _definitely_  strong.   
  


"We're here," Spike announced, parking the musty-smelling DeSoto in the lot outside the Hyperion.   
  


Xander heard gossip from Willow about Angel's hotel, but he'd never visited before. Trying not to gape, he followed Dawn and Spike through a side entrance, past a courtyard fountain, and into the hotel.   
  


The lobby was huge, fancy, and made Xander feel grungy in his wrinkled tan Dockers and faded green bowling shirt. His gym shoes squeaked on the black and white checked tile floor. Everything looked expensive and shiny, and he was immediately afraid to touch anything. He clutched his duffle to his chest as he continued to stare goggle-eyed at the hotel's magnificence.   
  


"Spike, you're here!" There was a high-pitched girl-squeal, which made Xander's ears pop, and he watched as Spike dropped his bag to the ground before catching a tall, brunette beauty in a hug.   
  


"Hello, gorgeous," Spike drawled, releasing Cordelia. He looked her up and down. "You look smashing, as always."   
  


"I do, don't I." Cordelia smiled widely, leaned in, and pecked him on the lips. "Missed you."   
  


"Same here." Spike smiled softly in return, then gestured behind him. "Look who I brought."   
  


"Dawn!" Cordelia bounced past Spike and gave Dawn a hug, too. "Hey, slut."   
  


"Hey, whore," Dawn said, returning the hug. "What's the what?"   
  


"The usual: visions, big demons, never-ending games of Monopoly." Cordelia turned to Xander, who was staring at her like she'd grown a second head, and gave him a mysterious smile. "Hi, Xander. Nice eye."   
  


"Uh, yeah." Xander warily half-smiled in return. "Hi."   
  


Cordelia looked good. Her hair was cut in a flattering bob, streaked blond. She was dressed causally in navy capri pants and a navy buttoned vest which showed off quite a bit of tanned flesh. If Xander hadn't dated her in the past, he'd be slobbering. As it was, Little Xander was stirring in his Dockers, and he changed his hold on his duffle to cover his reaction.   
  


"Where's this thing I'm supposed to translate?" Spike asked, tossing his duster onto the curved registration counter.   
  


"Over here." Cordelia walked to Spike, took his hand, and examined it as she led him around the counter to where two desks sat. "Your nails are smudged," she tisked. "We'll have to fix that. I have a Berry Blue that'll look great." She stopped him before he spoke. "I know. Later. It's always work first with you, killjoy."   
  


"I'm going to take our bags to our rooms," Dawn said, picking up Spike's duffle from the floor and heading for the red-carpeted stairs.   
  


Xander just stood there uncomfortably, wondering when  _he_  became the odd-man-out. Spike wasn't supposed to be welcomed with kisses from Cordelia, or be hugged, or told he was missed. They weren't supposed to be chattering like close friends. Spike was the enemy, wasn't he? Neutered, but still the bad guy, who occasionally helped for money.   
  


Xander crept closer to the counter in order to eavesdrop better. Cordelia had her hand on Spike's back, and they were both leaning over the desk, looking at a yellow and spotted brown legal pad. They seemed very comfy-cozy with each other, and Xander felt a spark of jealousy. Though, jealous of what? Cordelia? Spike? Their obvious closeness?   
  


"Is this coffee?" Spike picked up the pad and angled it to the desk light.   
  


"My bad," Cordelia admitted, "but Angel's fault."   
  


"Where is the froofy one, anyway?" Spike frowned as he studied the writing on the paper.   
  


"He and Wes are changing." Cordelia turned and leaned against the desk. "When I spewed my coffee, it was right at Gloom and Doom, after I read Angel's translation."   
  


Spike looked at her, one brow climbing up, but said nothing. Cordelia smirked, turned the page on the legal pad in his hand, then folded her arms and waited.   
  


Xander wasn't sure if he liked the whole silent communication thing they had going. Or that they were ignoring him. He opened his mouth to whine like a puppy, but Spike's sudden laughter caused him to gape instead. He'd never heard such a genuine sound of amusement coming from Spike, nor had he ever seen the vampire cry tears of laughter.   
  


Spike was bent over, clutching his stomach, his guffaws echoing in the lobby. Cordelia had the giggles, too, though not as bad. Apparently, whatever was written on the legal pad was something damn funny.   
  


"Hey, um, can I see, too?" Xander asked awkwardly. "Or is it one of those private, inside jokes that I'm very much outside of?"   
  


Spike sputtered and made grand, meaningless gestures as he tried to speak. "Angel... *snicker*... transheee... *snort*..."   
  


Cordelia grabbed the legal pad, cleared her throat, and read over Spike's squeaky noises.   
  


"Poor old Robinson Crusoe!   
He had no woman to screw, so   
He'd sit on a rock   
And play with his cock   
(Or he'd get his man Friday to do so.)"   
  


Xander blinked several times. Oookay. "Aside from the obvious, why is this so funny?"   
  


"That's what Angel said the passage translated to."   
  


"Right." Angel made a joke. Ha-ha. Guess he had to be there, or know Angel better to get it. Apparently, Spike knew Angel very well.   
  


"I take it you showed Spike my translation."   
  


Xander turned to see Angel coming down the stairs, with Wesley beside him. They looked the same as Xander remembered, though the smile on Angel's face was new. Since when did Angel smile? No one else thought that Angel's smile was ususal, though, it seemed. Nor did anyone but Xander freak when Angel embraced Giggly Spike and dropped a kiss on the blond's forehead.   
  


"Thanks for coming," Angel said, releasing Spike. He looked over at Xander. "Harris. Good to see you again."   
  


"Dea... Angel," Xander corrected. He was a guest in the man's home, the least he could do was call Angel by name. "Hi, Wesley."   
  


"Mr. Harris," Wesley greeted, offering Xander his hand. "Dawn said you had accompanied them. I'm glad to see you survived the trip." He shook Xander's hand, leaned closer, and whispered conspiratorially, "It's hard enough traveling with Spike alone, but with the two of them..."   
  


"I heard that, Wes," Spike commented.   
  


Wesley winked at Xander, released his hand, and walked over to join Angel and Spike at the desk. The coffee-stained yellow legal pad was positioned between them so they could all see. They began speaking to one another with an easy comradery, one that the Scooby Gang barely had anymore, and no one laughed when Spike took out a pair of gold wire-rim glasses, with small square lenses and curved ear pieces, and hooked them over his ears.   
  


It hit Xander then, the reason everything seemed so odd: Spike  _belonged_  here. His presence wasn't just tolerated. He wasn't just being used for his fighting ability. He wasn't just being pumped for his knowledge, even though that's why he'd been called. Xander had a feeling Spike would've been welcome if he was as dumb as a box of rocks -- something Xander had erroneously assumed until now. If Spike hadn't been arguing in another language with Wesley, the glasses would've proved how wrong Xander was.   
  


"Work, work, work. Spike is such a bore when there's research to be done." Cordelia sighed and leaned on her elbows on the registration counter next to Xander. "But he's quite the hottie with those glasses, isn't he?"   
  


"I was thinking more like dorky," Xander said, wondering what she meant by her first comment. He set his duffle bag on the floor near his feet and leaned on the counter like Cordelia. "I didn't even know he wore glasses."   
  


"Like he'd wear them around Buffy and company." Cordelia snorted. "Can you tell me you or the others wouldn't have made fun of him every time he put them on?"   
  


Xander was chagrined, because he knew he would've made fun of Spike in a second. The only thing preventing him now was, he was the outsider and Spike was most definitely not. Time to change the subject. "What did you mean, Spike's a bore when there's research? He usually helps out fine for a little while before he gets annoyed and impatient, then leaves."   
  


"He probably gets annoyed and impatient because his eyes and head hurts from not wearing his glasses," Cordelia said, studying Xander with a curious expression on her face. "When he's here helping us, he refuses to take a break until we kill or stop whatever Evil Ugly we're after. Which is no fun for me, because sometimes he has to turn around and head back to Sunnydale immediately post-victory, and I don't get a chance to really visit with him."   
  


"You guys are close, huh?" Xander said, frowning when he saw Angel put his arm around Spike's waist.   
  


"Extremely," Cordelia replied. "I'd snatch him up in a second if I could. But Spike's in love with you, you know."   
  


Xander's gaze whipped to Cordelia. " _What?_ "   
  


A small smile played and her lips and her eyes were twinkling. Xander slumped in relief. She was joking. "Not funny, Cordelia."   
  


"You look like someone killed your dog." Cordelia propped her chin on her fist. "Would it be that awful if Spike was in love with you?"   
  


"Yes," Xander stated firmly.   
  


"Why?"   
  


"Why?" Xander frowned at her. "Because he's Spike. Isn't that a good enough reason?"   
  


"Isn't that the best reason  _to_  love him?" Cordelia said softly.   
  


Xander's frown deepened and he looked back at Spike. The blond was leaning over the desk, reading the page of legal paper while being poked by Angel.   
  


"Angel, stop poking... ach!" Spike glared at Angel, with his hands on his hips and his glasses askew. His hair was sticking out every which way, because Angel had unceremoniously stripped off the blond's tee. "What the fuck did you do that for?"   
  


"Look at you, you're too skinny." Angel dropped Spike's shirt on the desk and started to poke at the other vampire's ribs. "Have you been feeding?"   
  


"Angel, I'm trying to translate this for you." Spike hugged his arms around himself self-consciously. "Stop being a father hen."   
  


"Spike," Angel said patiently. "Have you been feeding properly?"   
  


Spike's eyes flicked to Xander's before he turned to face the desk, grabbing his shirt. "I'm fine, Dad," he replied exasperatedly. "Money's been tight since I last saw you, s'all."   
  


"Spike, that was months ago!" Angel exclaimed, worriedly reaching out to touch the blond again.   
  


Spike flinched away and lowered his voice, but not enough that Xander couldn't hear. "Quit it. Not now, okay?"   
  


"Why not now?" Angel swung his arm, encompassing the room. "We're all fami-- oh," he stopped abruptly, staring point blank at Xander. Then he turned on his heel and stalked from the lobby. "I'll go get you something to eat."   
  


"There's a, ah, book I need," Wesley said, hurrying out of the room.   
  


"I'm going to go check on Dawn," Cordelia announced. She shot Xander a blinding smile, then headed up the stairs, leaving Xander and Spike alone.   
  


After too long of an uncomfortable silence where the only sounds came from Spike putting his shirt back on, Xander couldn't take anymore. "Angel's not wrong, you know. You're an anorexic's dream."   
  


"Well, you lot haven't been needing my assistance much of late, so...," Spike trailed off with a shrug.   
  


"You could've said something," Xander said, coming around the counter.   
  


"Why? So you could get your jollies poking fun at me?" Spike said, not with malice, but as if it were fact and he accepted it. "Poor ol' impotent Spike, can't even feed himself. Serves me right, eh, Harris?"   
  


"You're right," Xander said, stopping in front of the blond. "I would've given you a hard time." He caught Spike's arm when the vampire turned away. "But I would have made sure you were fed, Spike."   
  


Spike was quiet for a long time, his penetrating blue eyes focused squarely on Xander. Finally, he said, "Yeah, sure, Harris, thanks for the lie. Makes me feel all tingly."   
  


Xander dropped Spike's arm and lifted his chin in anger. "It's not a lie."   
  


Spike snorted. "Get off it, whelp. Until tonight, you haven't cared one whit for my welfare."   
  


"I have too ca--" Xander automatically began to protest, then cut himself off short. What Spike said was the truth, Xander couldn't deny it.   
  


Spike chuckled, but again it was with acceptance, not bitterness or resentment. "Don't worry about it, mate. I don't expect you to care about me like you do your chums."   
  


For some reason, Spike's statement bothered Xander. A lot.   
  


 

 

 **Part Four**    
  
  
  


 

"I'm bored. I'm going to go kill something," Angel stated, pulling a double-headed axe from a file cabinet drawer. He twirled it in his hand and looked over at the two men sitting side-by-side at one of the desks. "Anyone want to come with?"   
  


 

Spike and Wesley had been working non-stop on the translation for three solid hours, and Angel had been a pest for two of them until he'd been banished from the lobby. Xander had been highly amused when Angel had disappeared upstairs like a dog with his tail between his legs.   
  


 

Soon after Xander and Spike had talked, Angel had returned with a large mug of blood and practically forced it down Spike's throat, all the while glaring at Xander. Wesley had returned, too, book in hand and ready to work, ending any further conversation between Spike and Xander. Cordelia, though, had not come back, and neither had Dawn.   
  


 

Xander sat cross-legged on the registration counter, as quiet as a mouse. He was fascinated, unable to take his eyes off of Spike. He'd never seen Spike work so studiously before, or look so comfortable in the role of researcher, or seem so comfortable with those around him. If Xander hadn't been with Spike in the same room the entire time, he'd wonder where the pod was hidden.   
  


 

"I could use a break," Wesley said to Angel, rising from his seat.   
  


 

"Spike?" Angel inquired.   
  


 

"Nah, you go ahead," Spike said distractedly, scribbling something on a second legal pad. "I'm going... to... hmm.... that's not right..."   
  


 

Xander's lips curled up at how Gilesean Spike sounded, the glasses perched on the end of his nose only adding to the resemblance.   
  


 

Angel turned to Xander, frowned, and offered reluctantly, "Harris?"   
  


 

"No," Xander waved Angel away. "I think I'll stay injury-free, thanks."   
  


 

Angel's frown deepened. "Don't bother Spike," he warned, spinning the fighting axe in his hand. "Let's go, Wes."   
  


 

After Angel and Wesley left, Xander continued to observe the new Spike. Well, new to Xander, at least. He had a feeling that this Spike was considered 'normal' by the L.A. residents and Dawn.   
  


 

Spike tossed the pen on the desk, leaned back in his chair, popped up his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. It was such a benign action, one Xander saw Giles do when he was frustrated or tired, but seeing Spike do it caused a bubble of laughter to escape.   
  


 

The blond vampire glanced at Xander over the rims of his glasses, scarred brow raised. "Want to share, mate?"   
  


 

Xander shook his head and hopped off the counter. "It's nothing," he said, walking over to the desk. He motioned to the books and papers spread across the surface. "Are you guys making any progress?"   
  


 

"Yes and no," Spike admitted, although warily. "I know what it says in general, but not exactly."   
  


 

"If you know what it says, why are you still working on it?" Xander asked, confused. Research had never been his strong point. Actually, he had no strong points when it came to World Savage; he just had big balls.   
  


 

"Because it reads like a prophecy, and not a simple 'help me, help me' message," Spike replied, complete with a falsetto distress cry. He sighed and leaned forward again, studying the coffee-stained legal pad. "The problem with prophecies is, one wrong gerundive can change the whole soddin' meaning of the text."   
  


 

Xander slid onto the chair Wesley had vacated. "I was under the impression that you and Wesley spoke Ishtar."   
  


 

"Irushk, Xander.  _Ishtar_  is a horrid B-movie, starring Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty," Spike said, chuckling. "I speak the language fluently, and Wes has a passable knowledge of it, but neither of us reads it very well. And like I said, prophecies are very precise."   
  


 

"I take it Angel doesn't know Irushk," Xander surmised, looking at the squiggles on the legal pad.   
  


 

"He knows a handful of words, enough to get a drink and a whore," Spike said with an openly affectionate smile. "Which is why his 'translation' was such a bleedin' gas. Five'll get you ten, he was acting all serious-like when he read it."   
  


 

"Because Angel's such the joker," Xander said dryly.   
  


 

"There's a lot about Angel you don't know, pet." Spike's voice was soft, serious. "Just like there's a lot you don't know about me."   
  


 

Xander turned to Spike and studied him briefly, before admitting, "I'm beginning to see that."   
  


 

Spike looked away suddenly, and cleared his throat. He began to straighten the papers and books on the desk with intense concentration. Xander almost laughed again. He'd flustered Spike!   
  


 

"If there's nothing else on that pea brain of yours, Harris, I do have to get back to work," Spike said, a bit growly.   
  


 

"Let me help," Xander said, suddenly desiring to prove he had more in his head than a tiny vegetable. "I'm tired of sitting on my ass, doing nothing."   
  


 

"But you do it so well." Spike smirked at him.   
  


 

"C'mon, I'm serious," Xander said. "I want to help."   
  


 

The blond tilted his head to one side and he assessed Xander's sincerity, the he nodded decisively. "All right," he said. "I assume you don't know any Irushk."   
  


 

"Not a peep."   
  


 

"Then we'll look at this like a pictogram," Spike said. He tapped the page of squiggles. "Each of these symbols is a letter, the letters are grouped together to form words, and the spaces in between separate those words."   
  


 

"So this one, this one, and this one are all the same word?" Xander asked, pointing to three places on the page.   
  


 

Spike looked at Xander, impressed. "Maybe I was mistaken about your brain size. Good going."   
  


 

Spike was complimenting Xander. Normally, the idea that the vampire would pay Xander a compliment was not only laughable, but Xander wouldn't have believed that what came out of Spike's mouth was sincere. Now, though, after getting to see what Xander suspected was the "real" Spike, the brunette had no doubt that Spike's compliment was just that: a compliment.   
  


 

Xander flushed, pleased and slightly embarrassed that something so simple could make him feel so happy. "Um, so what do you want me to do?" he asked.   
  


 

"The same thing you'd do with a pictogram." Spike handed him a pen and a fresh pad of paper. "Make words out of the symbols."   
  


 

"This translates directly into English?"   
  


 

Spike laughed lightly. "Not sensible words, no. Phonetically, however..."   
  


 

"Got it." Xander pointed to one of the three matching words on the page. "Tell me what this says in Irushk."   
  


 

" _Wingilong_ ," Spike read.   
  


 

Xander wrote what he heard on his scratch paper, then pointed to another group of symbols that were repeated multiple times on the page. "And this?"   
  


 

" _Hingee_."   
  


 

"And this?"   
  


 

" _Ohfong._ " " _T'hingee._ " " _Ay'_."   
  


 

Armed with a lot of nothing, Xander got busy. He scratched and scribbled, erased and nibbled on the eraser, and asked Spike to translate other symbols at times. Every so often, the brunette felt Spike's eyes on him, but when he looked up the vampire was hard at work.   
  


 

At some point, Spike left and returned with coffee, which Xander drank without tasting as he continued to make nonsense words from symbols.   
  


 

Xander reached for the cup without looking, and his hand closed over rough, cool skin instead of Styrofoam. He raised his eyes and saw that he and Spike had reached for the same cup of coffee simultaneously.   
  


 

Turning his head, he met Spike's gaze, and the comment on his lips died at what he saw reflected in the vampire's sky blue eyes. Hope. Hunger. Longing. The impressions were fleeting, then a mask abruptly descended and all Xander could see reflected was himself.   
  


 

"Hands off my coffee, kid," Spike said.   
  


 

Xander quickly pulled his hand back. "I've had too much anyway." Way too much, to be seeing what he had in the blond's eyes.   
  


 

Spike sipped the coffee, made a face, and set it aside. He gestured towards the pad in front of Xander. "How goes it?"   
  


 

"I have almost all of them, I think." Xander passed the pad with a half-shrug. "I don't know how accurate it is, considering it's jibberish."   
  


 

"If it was Jibberish, there's be more  _rishini_ ," Spike said solemnly.   
  


 

"Hold on, hold on," Xander said. "There's a language called 'Jibberish?'"   
  


 

"Of course."   
  


 

Xander gaped at the vampire. "No way. You're lying."   
  


 

Spike winked over the rims of his glasses. "Maybe."   
  


 

Xander scowled, and Spike laughed before turning his attention to the brunette's work. He grew very still as he read, and Xander shifted uncomfortably. It was useless crap, Xander knew it, and Spike just didn't want to hurt his feelings.   
  


 

Wait a minute, Spike not wanting to hurt Xander's feelings? In what reality was Xander living?   
  


 

"Bugger all, Xander." Spike straightened and darted glances between the original and Xander's 'translation.' The vampire added a few words to Xander's page, then slumped in his chair. "Un-fucking-believable. If we would've asked for your help to begin with, I would've had a new coat of polish on my nails by now."   
  


 

"Er... is that good?" Xander asked tentatively.   
  


 

"Is what good?"   
  


 

Xander jumped, startled, and spun on his seat. Angel and Wesley had sneaked in without him hearing, both covered in brown slime but looking quite cheerful. Kind of like Buffy after a good slay, Xander noted.   
  


 

"Harris here translated the bloody prophecy," Spike answered.   
  


 

"Really?" Wesley hurried over to the desk. "What does it say?"   
  


 

Spike lifted the legal pad and read, "In English, it says:   
  


 

 _When ice falls from a cloudless sky_  
_and an Angel's eye forms in the heavens_    
_The one which is three:_    
_the hunter, the predator, the prey,_    
_will come forth._    
_He will join with a demon of hell_    
_but a heart of light._    
_He will have the power of the gods_    
_and so beings the first days of the Apocalypse._ "   
  


 

When Spike was done, Angel gave Xander a suspicious look. "I didn't know you knew Irushk."   
  


 

"I, uh, don't." Xander glanced at Spike. "Cricket here told me to treat the squiggles like a pictogram puzzle, so I did."   
  


 

"Who?"   
  


 

Xander grinned, glad to have the attention directed away from himself. He'd wanted to be seen as worthy, but now that it happened it was downright embarrassing. "Cricket," he repeated, pointing at Spike.   
  


 

Angel turned to the other vampire with an upraised brow. "Cricket?"   
  


 

"Grr," Spike said to Xander, with vast humiliation and little threat.   
  


 

Xander batted his lashes and blew a kiss. Spike suddenly froze, staring at Xander over the rims of his glasses. Then he dropped his chin and smiled somewhat bashfully.   
  


 

Angel looked at Spike, looked at Xander, then looked back at Spike. He groaned audibly and covered his face with his slimy hands. "I was  _not_  evil enough to deserve this."   
  
  
  
  
  


 

 **Part Five**    
  
  
  
  
  


 

"Cordelia." Spike tossed his duster onto a chair in his room, which was on the second floor of the Hyperion. He closed the suite door behind him. "What're you doing in here? I was going to change, then join you and Dawn."   
  


 

"Dawn crashed," Cordelia replied. She was leaning against the headboard of the bed, paging through a magazine, her nail kit on the night-stand beside her. "We're going shopping tomorrow."   
  


 

The blond vampire shucked his boots, socks, and jeans, and crawled onto the bed with her. He pillowed his head on his arms and shot her a dopey, sideways grin. "Xander called me 'Cricket.' It's his new pet name for me."   
  


 

"He should've called you 'Pathetic,'" Cordelia told him with an amused smile.   
  


 

"Yeah," Spike sighed happily.   
  


 

"How that boy can't see that you're head over heels for him is beyond me," Cordelia said. "Even if you hadn't told me, it's so obvious."   
  


 

"That's easy, luv." Spike turned on his side and propped his head on his hand. "One, Harris is oblivious to the idea that another bloke would fancy him, especially if that bloke is me."   
  


 

"And two?" she prompted.   
  


 

"And two," Spike continued, "this is really the first time he and I have been in the same place since I realized I loved the tosser." He dropped his gaze and plucked at the comforter. "I've followed him around some after dark, but the need for my help has been very little, of late."   
  


 

"No brooding," Cordelia scolded, exchanging her magazine for the nail kit. "Tell me instead your plan for winning his heart."   
  


 

"Ignore him, mainly." Spike squirmed at the look she gave him. "What do you expect me to do? I'm done with the translation, which means we're probably leaving tomorrow... er," he glanced at the clock on the night-stand behind Cordelia, "...later tonight. Once we get back to Sunnydale, Dawn will want to see her other friends and I won't have an excuse to hang around."   
  


 

"Dawn not being there is the perfect excuse  _for_  hanging around," Cordelia said. She wet a pad with nail-polish remover, took his hand, and started on his nails. "Ask Xander if he wants to catch a movie or something."   
  


 

Spike stared at her in horror. "You mean, ask him on a date?"   
  


 

"Saturday night  _is_  prime date night," Cordelia said pointedly.   
  


 

The blond swallowed the knot of fear in his throat, and whispered nervously, "I don't think I could do that."   
  


 

"The worst Xander could do is say no," she told him gently.   
  


 

"No, the worst he could do is laugh in my face, or perhaps give me a right good kicking," Spike corrected. He shook his head. "I'd rather have a love that's unrequited than rejected."   
  


 

"'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.'"   
  


 

"'Once a fool, always a fool,'" Spike quoted back. He made a disgusted noise. "Enough talk about my being chicken shit. Dish me on Dad's love life."   
  


 

Cordelia snorted. "What love life? You two are probably the sexiest guys on the planet, and you're in love with another male, and Angel doesn't think he deserves to have a relationship so he avoids women like the plague." Cordelia glanced up from painting Berry Blue polish on his nails. "Can vampires get the plague?"   
  


 

A knock on the door underlined Spike's answer in the negative.   
  


 

*****   
  


 

"It's open!"   
  


 

Xander wiped his surprisingly damp palms on his Dockers before grabbing the doorknob to Spike's room and giving it a twist. The vampire had disappeared soon after he'd given Xander that strangely bashful grin, and Xander had been shown to a room by Angel shortly thereafter. It was extremely late. Or early, depending on point of view. It didn't really matter, he still shouldn't be visiting Spike at this hour, especially since it was very possible that the vampire desired Xander for more than just a friendly game of checkers.   
  


 

But that was the question motivating Xander to knock at the vampire's door at an odd hour of the morning. He wanted to know if Spike was into him, or hungered to be  _in_  him. Xander clenched his buttocks at the thought and suppressed the urge to run away. No one but doctors were allowed in there, and that was only if the brunette couldn't get out of the exam.   
  


 

Then why was he standing outside of Spike's room?, an evil little voice chirped in the back of Xander's mind. "Because I need to tell Spike there's no way in hell I'd bend over for him," the brunette replied aloud.   
  


 

Nodding in decisiveness, he threw open the hotel suite door, walked purposefully inside, and pulled up short. "Oh, uh... s-sorry," he stammered. Cordelia was in Spike's bed and, while she was fully dressed, Spike was only wearing a tee-shirt and underwear. "I didn't mean to interrupt..."   
  


 

Wait, Spike was wearing underwear?   
  


 

Xander checked again. Yep. Underwear. White Fruit-of-the-Looms, if his identification skills were accurate. He snickered. "I never pegged you for the tighty-whitey type, Cricket."   
  


 

"What?" Spike said, confused.   
  


 

Cordelia, however, tittered. "He's referring to your choice of underwear, Spike."   
  


 

Xander hadn't known vampires could turn that color. He laughed as Spike scrambled to cover himself, earning squawks of protest from Cordelia. "Spike, your nails!"   
  


 

The brunette was practically on the floor, he was laughing so hard. "Looks like... I interrupted... another... Girls Night In...," he gasped between riotous chuckles.   
  


 

"Sod off." Spike was pouting, and blushing furiously, and had twin streaks of bright blue slashing his jaw.   
  


 

Xander felt something tighten in his chest... which he quickly blamed on lack of oxygen. His laughter trickled off, and he smiled teasingly. "I can't wait to tell Buffy and the others about this."   
  


 

Horrified, wide blue eyes turned on Xander. "You wouldn't."   
  


 

Xander chuckled evilly. "Wanna bet?"   
  


 

Spike pulled the comforter over his head, and a muffled choking sound could be heard. Cordelia winked at Xander, then patted the bed. "Come join us. I'll do your nails, too." She swatted the lump beside her. "After I fix Spike's."   
  


 

A smudged-nail-polished hand emerged from under the covers and pointed in Xander's direction. "His fault! Hit him, not me!"   
  


 

Xander took Cordelia's invitation only because he had the sudden need to sit down. Spike was acting... cute. Silly. And he was wearing white Fruit-of-the-Looms.   
  


 

Cordelia grabbed Spike's hand and examined the fingernails. She sighed disgustedly. "Great. We have to start over from scratch.   
  


 

More of Spike emerged from under the covers as he sat up, and the ruffled, still pink-cheeked blond stared balefully at Xander. "You're mean," he stated childishly and stuck out his tongue.   
  


 

"Don't stick out your tongue if you don't plan on using it," Xander said automatically. Then  _he_  turned a pretty shade of pink.   
  


 

"Do you two want me to leave?" Cordelia asked with a smirk.   
  


 

"NO!" Spike and Xander exclaimed simultaneously and with equal alarm. Then they looked at each other and, again simultaneously, called, "Jinx!"   
  


 

Both grown men snapped their mouths shut and looked hopefully at Cordelia. Neither was allowed to speak until someone said their name, according to the Jinx-game rules. Cordelia chuckled. "Not a chance. You'll both just have to stay silent until I'm done with your nails." She raised her Berry Blue nailbrush. "Who's first?"   
  
  
  


 

 **Part Six**    
  
  
  
  
  


 

Spike sighed softly, causing Angel to look down at him. It was Saturday afternoon, and the two vampires were in the courtyard, the hotel's shadow allowing them to enjoy the clear day without fear. Spike was stretched out on a stone bench, his blond head resting on Angel's thigh. The older man was taking a break from researching the prophecy's meaning, and Spike had joined him. It had been many moons since the blond had visited L.A., and Angel was happy for the company. He had missed Spike greatly.   
  


 

"What's that sigh for?" Angel asked. Spike's eyes reflected the cloudless sky, making his irises ten times more blue than usual. The brunette carded his fingers through Spike's partially gelled hair, waiting patiently for an answer.   
  


 

Spike somewhat shrugged. "Just enjoying the day, s'all."   
  


 

"You're not thinking about Xander?" Angel smirked at Spike's startled expression. "I know you're in love with him, Spike. Heck, a blind man could see that."   
  


 

The younger vampire shifted slightly. "You don't think Xander knows, do you?"   
  


 

"I said a blind man could see it, not a dumb one."   
  


 

"Xander's not dumb," Spike scowled. "Take it back."   
  


 

Angel's smile grew more amused. "Very well. Xander's not dumb, he's just an idiot."   
  


 

Spike rolled his eyes. "I'll let that one slide, seeing as it's true."   
  


 

The older vampire twined a white-blond lock of hair around his finger. "Will you ever tell him?"   
  


 

"No," Spike replied firmly. "At least right now I can keep an eye on him at night. It would be impossible to protect him if I was laughed out of Sunnydale, or worse: staked."   
  


 

"You don't think Buffy would come after you simply because you're in love with Xander?" Angel said.   
  


 

"She might if she thought I had some sort of nefarious scheme going," he replied.   
  


 

"Do you?"   
  


 

"Of course I do." Spike grinned cheekily. "Only it involves auctioning off the Slayer's knickers to the highest demon bidder."   
  


 

Angel tugged hard on the lock of hair between his fingers. Spike laughed. "Seriously," the younger vampire said. "I don't have any evil plans going. I just love the moron."   
  


 

"Well, if things don't work out, remember you can always come home," Angel said.   
  


 

"Home, huh?" Spike studied the other vampire a moment. "Is that what this place is?"   
  


 

"For you, hopefully home is wherever I am," Angel replied tenderly. He watched as those sky blue eyes filled with tears, and clucked his tongue when they began to fall. "Hey, now. Living with me can't be all that bad."   
  


 

"No," Spike smiled through his tears. "It's not all that bad."   
  


 

Angel caught a teardrop with his finger. "Icy tears, warm heart," he whispered.   
  


 

"Argh, bastard." Spike pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "You're not allowed to make me cry."   
  


 

"Says who?"   
  


 

"Says me." Spike lowered his hands, opened his eyes, and blinked rapidly. "Wild. I have colorful circles dancing in my vision." His gaze slid past Angel to the sky and after a moment he quoted softly, "'The soul would have no rainbow, had the eyes no tears.'"   
  


 

Abruptly, he stood and kissed Angel on the forehead. "Love you, Pops," he said quickly, then disappeared into the hotel.   
  


 

Angel smiled after him, watching through the window as he went to help Wesley. "Love you, too, sweet boy," the brunette murmured. "Love you, too."   
  


 

The vampire raised his gaze to the clear blue heavens and inhaled the fragrant early summer air. It was a beautiful day. He hoped the prophesied apocalypse wouldn't ruin it.   
  
  
  


 

*****   
  
  
  


 

Xander sat on the grand staircase, leaning against the brass railing, still half-asleep. His nails were bright blue, courtesy of Cordelia the Insane, with Spike sporting a matching set. Cordelia had not said either of the boys' names until after she had finished her nail torture. During their silent time, Xander had surreptitiously studied the blond conundrum while pretending to read his ex-girlfriend's Glamour magazine.   
  


 

Spike had these cheekbones that became more defined when he pouted, which was every time Cordelia looked up from her manicure as he tried to get her to say his name. His sparkling blue eyes had matched his nail polish in the hotel suite's lamplight. He had a scar on his leg, a fairly nasty one that Xander had asked about once they could talk again. Spike had regaled them with a wild tale about a possessed lawnmower that had them both in stitches, until Xander had pointed out that it couldn't be true since there weren't lawnmowers back in the day, and vampires didn't scar. Then the blond had sheepishly told them he'd fallen off a bookshelf he'd climbed to reach a book when he was ten.   
  


 

Xander had gone to bed shortly after that. Sheepish Spike was just too much to handle, on top of everything the brunette had witnessed earlier. A vampire wasn't supposed to have facets, and the fact that Spike did had greatly fried Xander's brain.   
  


 

Sitting on the steps, Xander felt more or less confident that Pod Spike wouldn't freak him any longer. The blond vampire looked like he usually did, dressed in black jeans and tee -- no white jockeys in sight. He was bitching to Wesley while he helped the other man, a normality Xander was also glad to see.   
  


 

"What's this? Angel's boy comes for a visit and no one bothers to call me?" a new voice boomed in the Hyperion lobby.   
  


 

Xander stood as Spike smiled widely and quickly crossed the lobby. "Gunn!"   
  


 

The blond was met by a large black man, who grabbed him in a tight hug before twisting an arm around his neck and giving him a noogie. Just when Xander thought he was fine with the strangeness, here was  _another_  person who immediately welcomed Spike.   
  


 

"So, what brings you to L.A.?" Gunn asked, affectionately ruffling Spike's hair.   
  


 

"Helping the souled demon with the poofy hair," Spike replied. He hitched up his jeans and rocked on his heels. "Yep. The old man couldn't do it on his own, 'cause as you know he's got a brain the size of a peanut, so he called in the big guns."   
  


 

"Spike, you're so full of it," Angel said, smacking the younger vampire upside the head as he walked by.   
  


 

"Did you bring the little ray of sunshine with you?" Gunn said.   
  


 

"She's shopping with Cordelia," Spike said. Xander came down the stairs, anticipating an introduction to yet another person who thought Spike was the shit.   
  


 

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here." Gunn turned to Angel. "I think this calls for a family dinner, don't you?"   
  


 

"At Roosters?" Spike said eagerly.   
  


 

"Where else?" Gunn answered with a grin at Spike. The black man caught sight of Xander. "Hello. I don't know you."   
  


 

Spike gestured for Xander to come over. "Xander, meet Gunn, my badass brother-in-arms and Angel's lackey," he introduced. "Gunn, this is Xander, my... uh...," he paused a significant moment, his sky blue eyes searching Xander's face, "...my-my friend."   
  


 

Gunn looked between Spike and Xander, then grinned again and punched the vampire on the arm. "I see how it is, you dog." He held out his hand. "Good to meet you, Xander."   
  


 

"Same here," Xander responded, shaking the other man's hand.   
  


 

Gunn nodded politely, released Xander's hand, and walked over to where Angel stood near the registration counter. "Family dinner, what do you say?" he prompted. "Spike's boyfriend can come, too."   
  


 

Angel and Wesley both snickered. Xander stared at Spike, waiting for him to correct Gunn's erroneous assumption. Spike was looking intently at the lobby floor as if he wished it would open up and swallow him.   
  


 

"I don't know," Angel drawled. "Spike's  _boyfriend_  might not want to join us for a family dinner."   
  


 

"Shut up, Angel," Xander said, not looking away from Spike.   
  


 

Spike lifted his chin and briefly met Xander's gaze. That was all it took for Xander to see that the vampire wasn't upset by the mistaken label. More like pleased, with a dash of bashful embarrassment thrown in. Internally, Xander freaked.   
  


 

Externally, Xander barely caught Spike before his head smacked on the tile floor.   
  


 

"What the hell?" Xander cradled the peroxide blond's head in his hands, watching wide-eyed as Spike began convulsing wildly. The vampire's pupils were tiny black pinpoints in a sea of blue, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. White spittle gathered at the corners of his slack mouth.   
  


 

"Spike!" Angel exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside the prone, spasming blond. He reached for Spike and quickly drew his hands back when Spike levitated off the floor.   
  


 

"This can't be good," Gunn said, gaping in shock as Spike's jerking body rose rapidly towards the ceiling.   
  


 

"If he says he's an emissary for Gozer the Gozarian, I've truly seen it all," Wesley murmured.   
  


 

Slack-jawed, Xander stared as Spike rose higher and higher, past the gold-plated hanging chandelier and into the painted dome ceiling. Just as he thought the vampire was going to pass right through the ceiling, Spike's body burst like a firework into glowing gold particles that slowly drifted towards the floor.   
  


 

In the stunned silence of the lobby, the clink of a metal object hitting the tile was like a gunshot. Xander jerked and dropped his gaze, his eyes immediately finding a quarter-sized object on the floor in front of him. He picked it up, noting the wire prongs lining the sides and the glowing green window in the center. "Spike's chip," he whispered in disbelief.   
  


 

Suddenly, Xander was on his back, being shaken roughly by an enraged brunette vampire. "What did you do to him?!" Angel snarled through his fangs. Wild gold eyes pinned Xander as effectively as Angel's bulk. "What did you do?!!"   
  


 

"Nothing," Xander yelped, his head hitting the Parque tile with each violent shake by Angel.   
  


 

"Angel, stop!" Gunn ordered. He and Wesley grabbed the vampire under the arms and dragged him off of Xander.   
  


 

Xander blinked the stars out of his vision, stifling a groan of pain. He heard Angel, Wesley, and Gunn yelling at each other, but they sounded like they were in a tunnel. Concussion, possibly, Xander mentally diagnosed himself. He touched the back of his head and his fingers came away bloody. A contusion, too, he thought.   
  


 

"You're bleeding all over the floor." Xander felt something press against the back of his head, and he hissed in pain. "Bloody pillock. I think we need to get you to a hospital, Xander."   
  


 

"Good idea," Xander said between clenched teeth. At the hospital, maybe they could explain why he'd just seen Spike explode and was now hearing his voice.   
  


 

Xander raised his eyes without moving too much and saw Spike kneeling behind his head, looking down at him with worry. "You're glowing," Xander said. "And you're naked."   
  


 

Spike glanced at his lap, pressed his thighs tighter together, and blushed. "I see that. You, uh, see that, too."   
  


 

"You're pretty good looking," Xander slurred as the world lost focus, "for a dead guy."   
  


 

"Xander, don't conk out on me," Spike said, his voice growing fainter with each word. "Xander, come on, luv..."   
  


 

"Sorry, Cricket. Gonna take a nap now. 'Night," Xander said, allowing the darkness to pull him under.   
  
  
  


 

 **Part Seven**    
  
  
  


 

The hospital was crowded. People with every injury imaginable walked, stumbled, were carried or pushed through the automatic doors. The scent of antiseptic did little to mask the smell of blood and death. The Grim Reaper paced the corridors, ducking into rooms to claim victims of gunshots and car accidents with little regard or sympathy for those the patient left behind.   
  


 

Spike paced the floor in the waiting area, unerringly stepping over stretched out legs and avoiding other pacers. Concerned family and friends of patients filled the room, sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs of avocado and mustard color and reading year old magazines. Some drank vending machine coffee, their shaking hands announcing that they've already had too much.   
  


 

Spike's hands shook despite not having any coffee. Carding his fingers through his hair, he continued to wear a hole in the tile floor. Xander was due to be released any time now, and the wait was driving Spike crazy. He and Wesley had been shooed from Xander's room by Nurse Ratchet so the resident on-call could give the brunette a final exam before releasing him.   
  


 

A squeak of a gymshoe on the floor caused Spike to whirl on his heel. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickly crossed to the brunette with a white bandage around his head coming down the hall. "Are you sprung?"   
  


 

Xander nodded, and whispered, "Will you keep yourself covered? It's disturbing enough that you're glowing without the naked thing."   
  


 

"Sorry." Spike re-tied the hospital gown he was wearing backwards.   
  


 

"Mr. Harris, are we ready to leave?" Wesley asked, meeting Xander at the entrance to the waiting area.   
  


 

"We're good to go," Xander replied with a sidelong glance at the mostly naked glowing vampire standing beside him.   
  


 

Wesley nodded, completely ignoring said naked glowing vamp. "Very good. I'm parked in the pay garage. This way."   
  


 

Spike fell into step beside Xander. "He still can't see me, pet. No one but you can for the moment."   
  


 

"Lucky me," Xander muttered. Louder, he asked Wesley, "How's Angel?"   
  


 

"Heavily sedated," Wesley answered. "I've spoken with Gunn, and Angel most likely won't awaken until tonight sometime." He gave Xander a not-too-friendly look. "By then, I expect you will be gone."   
  


 

"What are you getting mad at me for?" Xander followed Wesley out of the hospital and into the parking garage. "I didn't do anything to Spike."   
  


 

"I know that," Wesley said, "but this is a time for family..."   
  


 

"And I'm not a part of it," Xander finished, a bitter note creeping into his voice.   
  


 

"You are, too," Spike stated.   
  


 

"Invisible, naked glowing people's opinions don't count," Xander mumbled, rounding the car to the passenger side. "Especially someone who is probably a figment of my concussed imagination."   
  


 

Spike waggled his brows. "You imagine me naked?"   
  


 

Xander ignored him and got into the car. Spike grabbed the car door before it closed. "I need to get in, too, pet."   
  


 

"Is there a problem?" Wesley asked from the driver's seat, looking quizzically at Xander.   
  


 

"No." Xander waited until Spike slithered into the back seat before pulling the door shut.   
  


 

As the car got underway, Spike sighed and scooted out of the sunlight coming through Wesley's open window. He adjusted the hem of the hospital gown, keeping his dangly bits covered. He really needed to find some different clothing. Mint green was not his color, glowing a faint gold or not.   
  


 

Looking out the tinted side window, Spike let his mind drift over the events that led him to being mostly naked in the backseat of a motor vehicle. Unfortunately, sex was not involved.   
  


 

Spike remembered standing in the lobby of the Hyperion, giddy because Gunn had mislabeled Xander as Spike's boyfriend. Then there had been pain. It had ripped through his body unexpectedly, and it was worse than anything he'd ever felt. At that moment, he had wished for permanent death, the pain was so awful.   
  


 

He'd thought he  _had_  died when the pain abruptly stopped and he'd opened his eyes to find himself floating in a colorless void. Before he could question what had happened, his mind had been filled with answers and information, and then he was suddenly standing in the lobby of the Hyperion again and Xander was bleeding on the floor.   
  


 

He knew why he was glowing and why only Xander could see and hear him at the moment. He hadn't a clue as to why he'd returned naked as a jaybird from his impromptu visit with the Gods, but that was unimportant. What was important was, getting back to the Hyperion, letting his family know he was not dead... er, more dead... and telling them what the prophecy had meant.   
  


 

Spike would've done the second part sooner if Xander hadn't been in need of medical attention. He'd been afraid that if he'd popped up, alive and glowing, Xander would've been ignored as the blond tried to explain what had happened, and that was unacceptable. Human head injuries were not to be taken lightly, and it had been possible that every second would've counted. Spike now knew from the hospital visit that the boy hadn't been in any real danger, but at the time he wasn't going to chance it.   
  


 

Leaning forward, Spike lightly tapped Xander on the shoulder. "When we get to the hotel, I need you to play  _Ghost-_ ly Whoopi Goldberg and act as a temporary Medium for me."   
  


 

Xander's response was to ignore him. Spike sighed again. "C'mon, luv. I need you to do this for me."   
  


 

He was still ignored.   
  


 

"I'll say please if I have to."   
  


 

No response.   
  


 

"Please?"   
  


 

Nothing.   
  


 

"Pretty please?"   
  


 

Not even a twitch.   
  


 

"Pretty please, with a naked me on top."   
  


 

Nada.   
  


 

"Pretty please, with my promise to put clothes on?"   
  


 

Success! A faint nod. Although Spike didn't know if he should feel insulted or complimented by the fact his nudity bothered Xander.   
  


 

They arrived at the Hyperion, and with a terse "Stay here" to Xander in the lobby, Spike dashed upstairs to change out of the hospital gown. Not wanting to waste time, he threw on a pair of jeans only. However, he couldn't stop himself from going next door to check on Angel.   
  


 

Angel was flat out on the bed, his features slack because of the sedatives that had been given to him. From the bedroom, Spike could see Gunn sitting in a chair on the balcony, the tear tracks on his face glinting in the late afternoon sun. The blond became choked up. Gunn was grieving for him. Spike knew that his patchwork family cared for, and even loved, him, but seeing his supposed death cause tears really drove it home.   
  


 

Clearing his throat, Spike turned to his sire and brushed his fingers across Angel's brow. His thumb left a glowing golden streak that faded away after a moment. Because of the sun, he couldn't let Gunn know he was still kicking and the drugs in Angel's system put him down for the count, too.   
  


 

"I'm okay, Angel," Spike said, even though the older vampire couldn't hear him. "You haven't gotten rid of me yet." He placed a kiss on Angel's brow, which also left a glowing mark that faded shortly thereafter, then headed downstairs.   
  


 

Wesley was leaning over a book at the registration counter, although Spike could tell he wasn't reading it. Xander was sitting sideways on the third to last step of the red-carpeted grand staircase, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. The white bandage around his head made Spike wince. Xander was fine, Spike reminded himself. Concussed and stitched, but overall no real harm was done by his idiotic father figure.   
  


 

Cordelia and Dawn had not returned from their shopping excursion, which was good. Spike didn't want them to suffer one iota of heartache with the mistaken impression that he was dust. He loved his best friends too much to do that to them.   
  


 

"Xander," Spike addressed the tired-looking young man. "I need you to tell Wesley that I'm here." He didn't want to give Wes a heart attack by suddenly appearing, which was why he'd waited until after the hospital trip to do this.   
  


 

Without opening his eyes, Xander said, loud enough for Wesley to hear, "Spike's not dust."   
  


 

Wesley's head whipped around and he stared hard at Xander. "Come again?"   
  


 

"Spike's not dust," Xander repeated. He cracked open his eyes, and gestured at the blond standing in front of him. "He's right there. Apparently, I'm the only person who sees him."   
  


 

"That is not funny, Mr. Harris," Wesley said harshly.   
  


 

"Am I laughing?" Xander straightened and pointed directly at Spike. "No joke. Spike is right there, glowing gold and making me play Telephone."   
  


 

The look Wesley gave Xander caused  _Spike_  to shiver on the boy's behalf. He had to intervene before the not-so-secret love of his life learned that Wesley wasn't simply the book geek he appeared to be. "Tell Wes that I gave him Henkley's 'Nershoix' for his birthday with the naughty bookmark inside," Spike directed.   
  


 

Xander repeated the information, and a deep furrow appeared between Wesley's brow. "What did the bookmark say?" Wesley asked warily.   
  


 

Spike told Xander, who passed it on. "'Rec' li betex ter winde'k'... ca, um, ca..." The younger brunette looked at Spike. "What's the last word again?"   
  


 

"'Cacum,'" Spike supplied.   
  


 

"'Cacum,'" Xander finished.   
  


 

Wesley looked stunned. "Where-where is he?"   
  


 

"I'm right here, Wes," Spike said, stepping in front of him.   
  


 

"In front of you," Xander told Wesley.   
  


 

Wesley hesitantly extended his hand, and Spike clasped it with one of his own. The other man removed his glasses, staring intently at his hand. "I can feel something holding my hand. Is he holding my hand?"   
  


 

"He's holding your hand," Xander confirmed.   
  


 

The blond brought his other hand up and ran his fingertip from Wesley's hairline on down, ending with a tap to the tip of his nose. A streak of glowing gold was left behind where Spike had touched, and when it faded Wesley jerked as the vampire suddenly appeared in front of him. "Spike?" Wesley gasped.   
  


 

"Present and accounted for," Spike said with a small smile. "Sorry about the scare."   
  


 

Wesley used their clasped hands to pull Spike into a hard hug, then abruptly released him and stepped back. "Um... yes... good to have you back... if you'll pardon me," he said in a wavering voice. He pivoted and walked quickly out of the lobby.   
  


 

Spike watched after him. Wesley wasn't one to show his emotions in public, even if the public consisted of two people. Spike hated that he'd caused yet another member of his family any pain, but it was their feelings for him and his feelings for them in return that had caused what happened to him, and knowing what he did, Spike wouldn't change anything.   
  


 

The blond took a seat beside Xander on the step, propped his elbows on his knees and chin on his fists. He waited silently for Wesley's return, running over his explanation in his head. Xander had closed his eyes again and was once more leaning against the wall.   
  


 

"Why me?" Xander broke the quiet with his blunt question.   
  


 

"Why were you able to see me first?" Spike tried to clarify.   
  


 

"No." Xander opened his eyes and pinned him with his dark gaze. "Why do you like me in a naughty-touching boyfriend way?"   
  


 

Spike's mouth fell open, and he answered intelligently, "Uh..."   
  


 

Xander continued to stare at him, and Spike shifted uncomfortably on the step. He twisted his hands and his gaze flitted around the lobby, not focusing on anything for long. "How-how do you know I like you at- at all?" the blond stammered finally.   
  


 

Xander snorted. "I may be an idiot, but I'm not blind, Spike."   
  


 

Spike's looked at Xander in amazement. "Angel said something exactly like that earlier today."   
  


 

"Neat. But that doesn't answer my question," Xander said. "Why me? Why did Gunn's mistaking me for your boyfriend make you look as giddy as a schoolgirl?"   
  


 

"Er... ah..." Spike dropped his chin and picked at his fresh coat of blue nailpolish, which was glowing a faint gold like the rest of him. "Well, um, you're-you're attractive, and, uh, pretty smart, and- and humorous. And you have an infectious smile." He smiled as he pictured it, and continued. "You're protective of your friends, loyal to the point of stupidity, braver than the bloody Slayer, and... uh..." He glanced at Xander, and finished softly, "You don't treat me like an insect you're too lazy to kill."   
  


 

Xander took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Spike held his own metaphorical breath, waiting for the boy's response. He couldn't believe he'd sort-of confessed his love, after telling Angel and Cordelia he wasn't ever going to spill. It showed how weak he was when it came to Xander, Spike thought.   
  


 

"Okay, Glowboy, listen up," Xander said, rising to his feet. He stuck his hand in his pockets and looked down at Spike. "I don't like you, and until last night I didn't think anyone else liked you either. However, my blue nails and the crack in my skull says otherwise."   
  


 

Xander pulled one hand from his pocket and flipped something to Spike. "Prove to me that you're worth liking, Spike, and then we'll talk about the naughty-touching boyfriend part."   
  


 

Spike stared at the chip in his hand as Xander wandered away. 

 

 

 **Part Eight**    
  
  
  


"I don't see him." Gunn stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase in the Hyperion's lobby, folded his arms, and glared at Wesley. "Again, I reiterate, English, if this is your idea of a joke, I will hurt you."   
  


"I assure you, it is no joke," Wesley said. "Spike is right in front of you."   
  


Taking his cue, Spike stood on his tip-toes -- sometimes being short sucked -- and placed his hand on Gunn's shiny bald head. Gunn started at the invisible touch and Spike dropped his hand. A glowing gold hand-print remained briefly, then faded away. Gunn jerked when Spike materialized suddenly in front of him.   
  


"Spike?" Gunn questioned warily.   
  


"Not dead," Spike replied in jest.   
  


Gunn punched him across the jaw in response.   
  


"Ow! What was that--"   
  


Gunn hit him again.   
  


"Bloody he--"   
  


And again.   
  


Spike flinched when it looked like Gunn was going to punch him a fourth time. Instead, the big black man grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug.   
  


"You peroxide jackass," Gunn said, his voice wavering with emotion. He released the vampire after a moment, wiped his teary eyes, and promptly punched Spike again. "That's for making me cry."   
  


Spike rubbed his jaw, ignoring the snickers from the other two men in the lobby. "Then what were the others for?"   
  


"The first, for making us think you'd died. The second, for not being dead. And the third... just because," Gunn answered. He stepped back and looked over Spike from head to toe. "Why are you glowing?"   
  


The blond hitched up his jeans -- bugger, he really had lost weight -- and padded to the desk. "This is why I'm glowing," he said, pushing Xander's feet off the desk and picking up the English translation of the prophecy.   
  


"You are a part of the prophecy?" Wesley said, joining him by the desk.   
  


"I  _am_  the prophecy," Spike corrected, "and now that it's been fulfilled, you don't need to worry your pretty little heads about it."   
  


They all stared at him like he'd lost his mind.   
  


"Is it that hard to believe?" the blond said.   
  


"Yes," chorused the three.   
  


"Very funny," Spike said flatly.   
  


"All right, Spike," Wesley said, taking the translated prophecy from the faintly glowing vampire. "Tell us why you think this prophecy pertains to you."   
  


"I don't think; I know," Spike said.   
  


"And how do you know?" Wesley asked.   
  


"I'm glowing, ain't I?"   
  


Gunn walked over and smacked Spike upside the head. "Don't be smart."   
  


Spike glared at the other man. "I already have a pseudo-father, I don't need a second one."   
  


"Then stop being mouthy and answer the question," Gunn told him.   
  


Spike refrained from childishly sticking his tongue out at Gunn... barely. He glanced at Xander, who grinned mockingly at him, before turning back to Wesley. "I know because the Powers told me. I've been chosen as their Herald."   
  


"You don't look at all like a Harold," Xander commented. "A James, maybe. Or a Samuel."   
  


Spike gave Xander a dirty look. "A Herald is like a job, not a name, you plonker."   
  


"What are you heralding,  _Samuel_?" Gunn asked with a smirk.   
  


Spike's dirty look transferred to Gunn, but it was Wesley who answered, "The first days of the apocalypse." The bespectacled man looked at the translation in his hand, then at Spike. "Dear heavens."   
  


"Don't worry, Wes, the apocalypse isn't coming tomorrow," Spike said quickly. "I've been chosen to inform a flock of do-gooders that they are players in the World Cup of games between Good and Evil."   
  


"Sounds like the plot to a bad sci-fi movie," Xander said. "Then again, the last eight years of my life have been like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie."   
  


"I'm with you on that," Gunn commented to Xander. He leaned a hip on the desk, crossed his arms, and said to Spike, "So, I take it we're some of these 'players.'"   
  


The blond vampire shook his head. "No, you're family, and I wanted you to know I wasn't dust like you'd thought." A corner of his mouth turned up. "M'not really supposed to allow the non-warriors to see me."   
  


And Spike  _wasn't_  supposed to reveal his presence to those not a part of the apocalyptic battle to come. It was to ensure his safety, to allow him to travel freely, and... well, because he was glowing. It would be a right pain if he had to keep explaining the reason for that, and he doubted many would believe the answer anyway: that he was a Higher Being. The chosen warriors would believe, of that he knew, as would his L.A. family, which was why he'd 'freed' their minds by touching their heads, allowing them to see him. And, of course, he'd touched Xander because he was in love with the guy, that was just a given.   
  


"Um, who are the warriors then?" Xander asked. A lightbulb seemed to appear above his head. "Buffy's probably one, right?"   
  


"That skanky bint isn't even on the Second list," Spike replied with a sneer. "Angel's one of the players, though, and his Second is a bloke named Lindsey McDonald."   
  


"The Wolfram and Hart attorney?" Wesley said in disbelief. "You must be joking."   
  


"I don't joke, not about this," Spike said seriously. "As I will tell Angel when he wakes up, he is one of the warriors picked by the Powers to fight on the side of Good. The powers have deemed this Lindsey as Angel's Second, the one who will fight at his side."   
  


Gunn exchanged looks with Wesley. "Spike said he wasn't joking, but why do I want to laugh my black ass off?"   
  


"I take it you know who Lindsey McDonald is?" Spike said.   
  


"Yes," Wesley replied. "He is an attorney who works for the evil Wolfram and Hart law firm."   
  


"Isn't that redundant? Evil lawyers?" Xander said. He was ignored.   
  


"Angel and Lindsay do  _not_  get along," Gunn explained. "And that's putting it mildly."   
  


"Sometimes the greatest enemies make the best lovers," Spike said, dropping his gaze to his bare feet rather than blatantly staring at Xander. A silence descended over the lobby, causing everyone to shift uncomfortably.   
  


Finally, the blond cleared his throat, and continued. "No matter what happens between Angel and Lindsey, they will be at the battle, of that I'm certain." He refrained from telling them Angel and Lindsey might both end up fighting for the other side. That information was for Angel's ears only.   
  


"Is there anything else you can tell us about this battle?" Wesley inquired.   
  


"Only that I'm leaving as soon as I talk to Angel and say goodbye to the girls," Spike replied. "Xander, I trust you'll be able to drive the DeSoto back to Sunnydale with Dawn."   
  


"You're not coming with us?" Xander said with a grin. "Woo-hoo! Break out the champagne!"   
  


"Yeah, throw a soddin' celebration," Spike said, hurt by Xander's response. "The Slayer and the rest of your chums won't ever see me again." He started for the stairs, muttering, "Not like you really ever saw me before."   
  


"I did, too, see you," Xander stated, catching up with him. "More than I wanted, actually."   
  


Spike snorted. "That makes me feel much better."   
  


"Well, what did you expect?" Xander said. "You're a  _vampire_. A soulless monster. That which is to be staked by Slayerettes like me."   
  


They reached the top of the stairs, and Spike faced Xander, spreading his arms wide and ignoring the audience below. "Then why the hell haven't you staked me, eh? If I'm such a bloody monster, why am I still walking around?"   
  


"You had the chip," Xander said.   
  


"What, this?" Spike dug the chip from his jeans pocket and held it up. "Is this the chip you mean?"   
  


Xander swallowed audibly and took a step back, his face paling. "Uh... yeah. Th-that's the one."   
  


Spike could smell Xander's fear, and his hurt and anger grew. "The only thing this hunk of wire and metal did was, to get me to slow down and think. It wasn't preventing me from hiring someone to kill you all."   
  


If anything, Xander became paler. "You mean, you could have killed us at any time?"   
  


Spike clenched his fists, the metal prongs on the chip cutting into his palm. "But I didn't, did I? And that's the whole effin' point."   
  


"Then why haven't you told Gunn or Wesley that the chip is out, huh?" Xander said, showing a spark of courage despite his fear, which was one of the reasons Spike loved him.   
  


Spike unclenched his fists, took Xander's hand, holding tightly when the brunette tried to jerk away, and pressed the chip into his palm. "The chip doesn't matter to them, Xander. It never has. In fact, Angel tried his damndest to get it out."   
  


"Oh," Xander said faintly.   
  


"I've been chosen Herald by the Powers, Xander," the glowing vampire said slowly, looking into Xander's fear-tinged eyes. "Out of everyone on Earth, both demon and non-demon, the Powers chose  _me_  to gather the warriors of Good. Don't you think that says something?"   
  


"Yeah: what were the Powers smoking," Xander quipped with a wary smile, "and can They give me some?"   
  


Spike laughed, shaking his head in complete amusement. Gods, he loved this boy. "If you want to tell the others about the chip, go ahead," he told Xander. "I'm going to sit with Sleeping Broody until he wakes up."   
  


"Okay."   
  


Spike started to leave, but Xander called his name after a few steps. The vampire stopped and turned to face him again.   
  


Xander glanced at the chip in his hand, then looked back at Spike. "I may not have trusted you, but I always knew you were there."   
  


The blond knew Xander was referring to all the times Spike worked with the Slayer and her group. He smiled faintly, nodded in acknowledgment, and continued to Angel's room.   
  
  
  


**Part Nine**    
  
  
  


Spike decided to finish dressing and to put his room to rights before sitting with Angel. He couldn't bring anything on his journey; just the clothing he wore would become invisible to the naked eye, like him. He also wanted to leave as soon as he could. He might be a Higher Being now, but he was still a vampire and that pesky sun limited his travel times. He didn't get any nifty magickal abilities as the chosen Herald, he was only invisible to the untouched population and he had the authority of the Powers behind him.   
  


He ran into Cordelia and Dawn in the hall, both loaded down with shopping bags and newly styled hair. He quickly gave them the ability to see him, and the first words out of Cordelia's mouth were: "Spike, have you been listening to your Ziggy Stardust albums again?"   
  


Despite being mortified, Spike gave them the short, short version of the explanation he'd given to Wesley, Giles, and Xander. The girls believed him much more readily, but he shared things with them on a much more regular basis than with the rest of his mismatched family, so that made sense. He also received kisses and congratulations, rather than mocking celebration and punches in the jaw.   
  


He informed them he'd be leaving that night and didn't know when he'd return. He had a mental list of where all the warriors were located, but the world was a mighty big place and there might be difficulties along the way. Having to limit his travel to nighttime was one of them. Still, Dawn pouted, whined, and tried to weasel an invitation. Spike told her no, because, one, they didn't have any money and, two, Buffy wouldn't let Dawn go with a  _visible_  Spike. What were the odds of her going with an  _invisible_  one?   
  


With promises not to leave before saying goodbye, Spike and the girls parted and he entered Angel's suite. The dark-haired vampire was sprawled on the bed exactly as Spike had last seen him. Pulling up a chair beside the bed, the glowing man sat, leaned forward, and clasped one of Angel's limp hands between both of his. Silly sod, Spike thought affectionately. Getting all worked up over Spike's supposed death was touching, but unnecessary. No one should mourn him.   
  


Angel was groggy when he awoke from his drug-induced sleep an hour later. Spike smoothed his fingers over the other man's brow and smiled when he focused bleary eyes on Spike. "Welcome back," Spike said.   
  


Angel blinked several times, and asked hoarsely, "Are you a ghost?"   
  


"Not a ghost." Spike briefly cupped Angel's cheek and quoted, "'I'm a real, live boy.'"   
  


_Crunch_. There went the rest of his ribs, Spike thought as Angel squished the demon out of him. What was it with his family and hugging him all the time? Jeez.   
  


"My boy, my boy," Angel peppered kisses on Spike's glowing face, "my sweet, sweet boy."   
  


"Oh, for hell's sake, cut it out, you ponce," Spike grumbled exasperatedly, trying to squirm out of Angel's embrace.   
  


"You're not dust. I think I'm entitled to be mushy," Angel told him, hugging him even closer. "Don't  _ever_  die on me again, understand? You're not too old to be taken over my knee."   
  


Spike's face was smashed against Angel's chest, so the older vampire didn't see the eye-rolling. "Are you going to let go?" the blond said, although it sounded more like: "Maroo gun da ledgo?"   
  


"No." Angel manhandled Spike into a desired position, sitting sideways on his lap, wrapped his arms snugly around the smaller man's waist, and held him. "Now, explanations, please. Start with what happened in the lobby and go from there."   
  


Spike stopped trying to break Angel's hold and gave into sitting on his pseudo-father's lap like a little boy. With more detail than he'd given any of the others, Spike shared what had happened -- the grey void, being chosen Herald and what that entailed, and Angel's role in the apocalypse, including his task to convince Lindsey McDonald to fight with him when the time came and warning him that the bad guys would try to seduce him to their side.   
  


Spike watched the wheels turn in the other man's mind as he processed everything. It was a lot to take in but he wasn't worried about Angel disbelieving him, and not just because he was one of the warriors. Sometimes having a father, even a self-proclaimed one, had its advantages. It was nice to be taken seriously and not have everything he said questioned, which rarely happened with Slayer, Incorporated, even after all these years helping them.   
  


He would've moved to L.A. long ago if he hadn't felt indebted to Angel for trying to have the chip taken out. Spike had told Angel earlier that he stayed in Sunnydale to watch Xander's back, but that wasn't entirely true. He'd only been in love with the boy for about a month. All the years before that, he'd stayed to watch Buffy's back, for Angel.   
  


"So, the prophecy was about you, huh?" Angel said eventually.   
  


"Scary, eh?" Spike grinned.   
  


"Extremely," Angel agreed. He frowned. "But I don't remember an ice storm."   
  


"Prophecies are rarely literal, Angel, you know that," Spike said. He raised his chin and fluttered his lashes. "What color are my eyes?"   
  


Angel's frown deepened. "Blue, why?"   
  


"Patience, Peachesan," Spike tut-tutted. "What color is a cloudless sky?"   
  


"Blue," Angel replied.   
  


Spike nodded. "Remember my waterworks earlier this afternoon?"   
  


"'Icy tears, warm heart,'" Angel quoted himself as understanding dawned.   
  


"Right," Spike said. "And remember how I rubbed my eyes and said I saw colorful spots after? Spouted off flowery poetry about rainbows? An Angel's eye is a rainbow that forms a complete circle."   
  


"Colorful spots." Angel put two and two together and came up with three. "'The one that is three: the hunter, the predator, the prey,'" he recited. "You hunt demons, as a vampire you're a predator, and your chip makes you prey."   
  


Spike tapped his nose. "Bingo. And the next line was referring to you: 'a demon with a heart of light.'"   
  


"Which means, the prophecy really was about you," Angel said, a hint of awe in his voice. "Now you're a Higher Being, a Herald for the Gods."   
  


"Kind of neat, innit?"   
  


"It's more than kind of neat, Spike," Angel said. "It's- it's..." He paused, and an expression Spike had seen before, but never with this intensity, appeared on Angel's face. "I am so proud of you."   
  


Spike could have been knocked over with a feather. His jaw dropped and he stared at Angel in shock. His mentor had  _never_  said those words before, or even implied them and, truthfully, Spike had longed to hear them his entire life.   
  


He was feeling all odd inside and wasn't too sure he liked it, so he quickly changed the subject. "My chip is gone," he blurted.   
  


Angel stared at him a moment. "Not only have you being given such an honor, your chip is gone, too?" He made a sound of disgust. "Not fair. I'll trade you your prophecy for mine," he whined, referring to the Prophecies of Aberjian.   
  


Spike laughed, and the world righted itself again. "Forget it," he said. "I happen to like being a vampire."   
  


"Even though, over the past five years, until now, you've been handicapped by the chip?" Angel inquired thoughtfully.   
  


"Even though, and more because," Spike said cryptically. He finally managed to escape Angel's hold and moved to sit cross-legged on the bed beside the other vampire. He searched for the words, and continued. "'Spike' was an invention, you know. Creating him gave me the chance to be the complete opposite of what I was as a human: a foppish bookworm without a spine, who couldn't fight his way out of a paper sack."   
  


"I know," Angel said, prompting Spike to go on.   
  


"It was fun being Spike," Spike continued, "and after a few years he became less of a role and more of who I was. I turned into the Badass Master Vampire who Drusilla adored and others feared." He gave Angel a twisted grin. "Then I get to Sunnydale. Stuff happens, some good, some bad, some really bloody awful. I leave, I come back. I leave again and come back. I leave  _again_  and come back and get my fangs capped. And that's when things began to change."   
  


Angel tilted his head slightly, listening intently. "How?"   
  


"I stopped and smelled the roses, basically." Spike plucked at his bootlaces. "Oh, I was still a Badass Master Vampire, but I was also alone. Very, very alone."   
  


He shrugged abruptly before Angel could show pity. "S'one of the reasons I started helping your ex-twat. I wasn't welcome to pal around with the other demons once I took up hunting them for sport, and Buffy, et cetera, at least tolerated my presence if I played nicely with everyone."   
  


Angel nodded in understanding. "You had to play a new role."   
  


"I see all that hairgel hasn't rotted your brain." Spike ducked the swat and continued. "You're right on the role-playing. I dug into my memories of how William behaved as a human and tried to act a little like him around the others. Then you started asking for my help and my best behavior was required around your pets, too. Eventually, just as Spike became me, I turned into the conglomeration of SpikeWilliam, and I kind of like being him."   
  


"I kind of like you being him, too," Angel said with a mischievous grin. "'Pure' Spike was a real dick."   
  


Spike flicked him off, then segued, "From what I heard, this Lindsey is a dick, too."   
  


"It will be like you never left."   
  


Conversation over. Spike pounced and wrestled with Angel until they fell off the bed. The blond stood first. Angel was on his hands and knees still, and Spike smacked him on the ass, leaving a glowing gold hand-print on that large expanse of buttock. Angel growled, and Spike laughed and took off running.   
  


The centuries old vampires, having the maturity that came with age, careened into the Hyperion's lobby where the others had congregated, and skidded to a halt. Spike immediately put on his "I'm an adult" face. Angel wore the same expression, but he still de-pantsed Spike.   
  


"Angel!" Spike exclaimed, scrambling to pull his trousers and underwear up again. Laughter, at his expense, filled the lobby. Xander put his hand over Dawn's eyes, but she pried his fingers apart and peeked through them. She wolf-whistled.   
  


"Dawn, stop looking at Spike's naked parts," Cordelia scolded, while blatantly ogling said naked parts herself.   
  


Spike tugged up his jeans and re-fastened them. "Nobody should be looking at my naked bits unless they plan to do something with them."   
  


"If you can find them, first," Xander said with a smirk.   
  


More laughter at Spike's expense. How typical. He gave Xander a black look, then addressed the group. "And on that humiliating note, I'll be shoving off."   
  


Everyone sobered quickly. "Already?" Cordelia said, walking over to him.   
  


Spike nodded. "Miles to go and all that rubbish."   
  


She stepped into his hug and kissed him briefly on the mouth. "You'd better email and IM me," she said.   
  


"I will, luv," he agreed.   
  


Dawn took her place. "Write me, too," she said by his ear. "Are you sure I can't come with?"   
  


"Dead cert," Spike said, hugging her tight. "I'm not going to France anyway."   
  


"Oh, well, in that case..." She grinned, but it was a little wavery.   
  


Angel hugged him next. "Take care. If you need anything..."   
  


"I'll call," Spike promised.   
  


Angel kissed the top of his head and stepped away. Wesley came forward next and gave Spike's hand a hardy handshake. "Good luck with your endeavor."   
  


"Thanks, Wes," Spike said. He turned to Gunn, who'd come up beside him, and was promptly punched in the face.   
  


"That's for anything you're  _going_  to do," Gunn stated.   
  


Rubbing his jaw, Spike glowered at the other man. He pivoted to Xander, who had walked up behind him. "You gonna hit me, too?" the blond asked caustically.   
  


"Only if you want me to," Xander said with a quirk of a brow.   
  


Spike leered. "Kinky."   
  


Xander rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. "Go away, Spike."   
  


Spike glanced at the large, tanned paw in front of him, and clasped it tentatively. His own brow rose in surprise when he felt Xander press a slip of paper against his palm. He put it quickly into his pocket after giving Xander's hand a pump. "I'm going. Try not to get killed, eh?"   
  


"Will do," Xander agreed with a smile.   
  


Spike wanted to capture that smile in a kiss, just one kiss, because he suddenly had a bad feeling he'd never see the boy again. He swallowed nervously and glanced at the others. Every single one of them was gesturing or mouthing for him to kiss Xander. Gods, talk about bloody embarrassing. He hoped Xander didn't see what they were doing.   
  


Spike returned his attention to the brunette, who was watching him with those chocolate anime eyes of his. The blond licked his lips and took a small step closer to Xander. "Can... will you... if... Oh, fuck all," he growled, and swooped in for a kiss.   
  


The kiss was short. It was dry. It was closed-mouthed. It was, by far, the worst kiss ever. And the applause and cheers didn't help matters, either.   
  


Spike looked warily at Xander, who seemed to be shell-shocked. He wasn't being splattered across the lobby by an angry male, at least. "Uh, sorry 'bout that," he mumbled, wishing he hadn't gone and kissed the other man.   
  


"Sorry you kissed me," Xander asked, "or sorry you kissed me so badly?"   
  


"Er... either. Or both. You pick," Spike replied, embarrassed.   
  


Xander lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. "I kind of liked it."   
  


"Huh?" Spike goggled at him.   
  


"I got to be the cliché," Xander grinned lopsidedly, "and that's cool."   
  


Spike had no effin' clue what Xander meant. Of course, his brain had frozen shortly following the phrase, "I kind of liked it."   
  


Xander waved his hand in front of Spike's face. "Hello? Earth to Glowworm."   
  


Spike started, blushed, and grumbled, "What?"   
  


"You're going to ruin my movie moment if you don't leave now," Xander said in an exaggerated stage whisper.   
  


"Right." Spike turned and headed for the front doors of the hotel. At the top of the steps, he glanced back, and saw his family gathered to one side and Xander alone on the other. "Well, bye."   
  


"Bye, Spike," everyone said in some shape or form, but Spike only heard the boy's deep tones. His gaze lingered on Xander for a minute, then he walked out the door.   
  
  
  


**Part Ten**    
  
  
  


_"You never know what you've got until it's gone._ "   
  


Xander never really understood what that statement meant until Spike was gone. The others didn't seem to notice that the vampire wasn't turning up at the major Scooby gatherings, but that wasn't surprising. They hardly noticed -- or chose not to notice -- Spike when he  _was_  there.   
  


Xander noticed the missing blond, especially when they went to fight a major bad. He never realized how essential Spike's fighting ability was to taking down the nasties, even if he was just there to watch their backs. As the months passed since Spike went away, Xander estimated the gang had been to the hospital or free clinic three times as much as when the vampire was helping. The others may not have consciously acknowledged Spike's assistance, but subconsciously it was obvious they relied on him.   
  


Outside of the fight against the forces of darkness, only Dawn was truly unhappy about Spike's absence. Their friendship was a close one, and his leaving made her bitchier than usual, even though Spike emailed and chatted with her often. When she had left for college, it had been to Buffy's very audible relief.   
  


Time passed and things in Sunnydale continued on in their Hellmouthy manner. Buffy whined about her lack of life, Willow and Tara practiced magick with mixed results, Giles researched and observed, Anya continued to be obsessed with money and sex, and Xander lived to hear that annoying computerized voice proclaiming: "You've got mail!"   
  
  
  


_To: thatxandershapedguy@aol.com_

_From: cricket818@aol.com_

_Subject: I Hate Finland_

_==_    
  


_It's too bloody cold! I'm practically sleeping on top of the radiator at the hotel, and tomorrow I won't even have that luxury. The warrior I'm after in this hypothermic wasteland is, of course, out in the sodding ice fields._    
  


_Why did I agree to do this again?_    
  


_Send electric cock-warmer,_

_Me_    
  
  
  


Xander chuckled as he finished reading Spike's latest email. When Xander had first slipped the vampire his email address when they'd said goodbye, he had questioned his sanity. With that action, he had indicated to Spike that he was interested in keeping contact with someone who, until that weekend, he couldn't stand. Since he received the first tentative email from Spike, however, Xander hadn't regretted taking that initiative.   
  


At the very least, Xander and Spike were now friends. Somewhat daily emails and weekly AOL Instant Messaging chat sessions had seen to that. The Spike Xander had met in Los Angeles turned out to be a man he liked and wished he'd taken the time to get to know better.   
  


Sometimes, Xander, Cordelia, Dawn, and Spike were all online at the same time, and they created a chatroom to visit with each other. Mostly, though, Xander and Spike communicated privately via IM or email, and Xander secretly enjoyed that more. In fact, Xander was in front of the computer every night, hoping that Spike would have computer access wherever he was in the world.   
  


But despite the fact that Xander did spend time doing other things, sitting in front of the computer passed the point of being an annoyance for Anya, and she'd issued an ultimatum: the computer went, or she did. Anya collected the last of her belongings from Xander's apartment four Sundays ago.   
  


Her breaking up with Xander had hurt, but the brunette didn't want to be with someone who wouldn't allow him to have outside friendships, especially since nothing really changed between them after he started talking with Spike. Instead of vegging in front of the television, Xander vegged in front of the computer after Anya had gone to bed at ten o'clock. Sometimes, Xander and Spike made special arrangements to chat earlier or on weekends, but Anya had always known about it in advance. That still hadn't been good enough for her, and they'd decided to end their crazy five-year relationship.   
  


_To: cricket818@aol.com_

_From: thatxandershapedguy@aol.com_

_Subject: re: I Hate Finland_

_==_    
  


_Cricket--_    
  


_Q: If you have a worldwide list in that bleached head of yours, why aren't you finding the warriors in the *warm* countries and wait to do the cold countries when it *isn't* winter?_    
  


_X_    
  


_P.S. I don't have a cock-warmer anymore, I broke up with Anya, remember? :)_    
  
  
  


*****   
  


Spike looked up from his book when the sound of an opening door played from the speakers on the computer. A large smile graced his features, illuminated by the computer screen in the closed library in northern Finland. Like he did everywhere else he'd traveled thus far, he'd broken into an establishment with public Internet access to log onto AOL and keep in contact with his family. While en route from destination to destination, his computer access was limited, and on the nights he sought out the next warrior on his list he didn't use the computer at all. But in between times, he relished the email he received and the times he was able to chat.   
  


"You've got mail!" the computer told Spike as he stuck a bookmark in his place and adjusted his seating position in front of the computer carol. Another door opening sounded almost simultaneously, and he laughed softly.   
  


"Looks like tonight won't be silent, after all," he murmured to himself in the empty library. Some nights passed when he sat in front of the computer and no one on his 'Buddy' list logged on. Those nights dragged forever, and he'd started bringing a paperback book to read while he sat and hoped for cyber-company.   
  


Both Xander and Cordelia had come online and Xander had sent Spike an email. The vampire sent a quick hello via IM to Cordelia before reading the email message. His lips twitched in self-deprecating amusement, and he pulled up the screen to send an IM to Xander.   
  


_cricket818: A: I am a moron._

_thatxandershapedguy: You're just realizing this now?_

_cricket818: ha-ha._    
  


Cordelia answered Spike's greeting in a second window, and he switched to her.   
  


_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Hi! Hello! Hey! and Are you being good?_

_cricket818: Tell everyone hello, and gesture rudely to Angel, will ya?_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Will do..._    
  


Xander's window flashed and Spike Alt-Tabbed back to him.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: How's tricks? I haven't heard from you in a few days._

_cricket818: Had to take the train to get here. Not fun._

_thatxandershapedguy: Where in Finland are you?_

_cricket818: Havolak. It's north of Ivola._

_thatxandershapedguy: Map time._    
  


Spike felt a happy thrill when Xander's words appeared. The boy had decided to mark Spike's travels on a large wall map, using colored pushpins and string. According to Dawn, who'd seen the map, it was "way cool." She never mentioned that Xander was also printing out any unexplained exanguinations and hanging them on the wall, too -- of which, from Spike's doing, there would be none -- so Spike assumed Xander was marking the map because he was interested in Spike and not checking up on his chipless actions.   
  


_angeldoesntpaymeenough: Okay. Everyone's gone now, but me. Did you know that dustbunnies actually have teeth?_

_cricket818: Yeah. Nasty critters. Hope Larry, Curly, and Shemp took a flame-thrower._

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: And the fire-extinguisher, for when Angel lights himself on fire._    
  


Chuckling, Spike switched to Xander again when he returned.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Back. You're on number 27._

_cricket818: Only 27? *groan* I feel like I've been doing this for an eternity and I'm not even near the vicinity of done._    
  


Spike flipped to Cordelia.   
  


_cricket818: I've only heralded 27!!! warriors. 27!_

_angeldoesntpaymeenough: That's it? But you've been gone since June._

_cricket818: I know._    
  


Xander sent him another IM, and Spike changed screens to reply.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Before I forget, Giles is getting rid of a bunch of New Age costume jewelry -- sterling silver rings, leather bracelets, etc. Want me to snag you some?_

_cricket818: Ta, Xander. Size 8-10 on the rings._    
  


Cordelia's query, which she'd sent almost simultaneously with Xander's, waited for a reply.   
  


_angeldoesntpaymeenough: How are you holding up?_    
  


Spike removed his glasses, set them aside, and rubbed his eyes. How was he holding up? Let's see: he was in Frostbite, Finland, after a four-day train ride with Bossy the cow and all her smelly friends; tomorrow night he had to set out on  _skis_  to reach the next warrior; and he'd just found that he was only on warrior number 27 after being gone for 25 weeks. Twenty-five weeks of being invisible, of having to be silent while traveling with others or walking through a crowd, of having to break-and-enter hotel rooms, clothing or grocery stores, and places with public access computers in order to talk to someone who knew he really existed.   
  


_cricket818: Gods, I'm so fucking lonely. It's not so much the silence as it is being in a room full of people and no one seeing me. It was neat at first. Now, it just reminds me of how alone I really am. I feel like I never left Sunnydale._    
  


Spike hit enter as he reached for his glasses. He'd been reading since he'd arrived, hours earlier, and the words were definitely blurry around the edges without them now. After sliding the gold frames onto his nose, he returned his attention to the screen, and saw that he'd sent the reply to Cordelia's question... to Xander.   
  


*****   
  


Xander read and reread the words in his IM window, growing more disgusted with himself on every pass. Months ago, what Spike wrote, which was so out of the blue Xander figured he must be conversing with someone else at the same time, wouldn't have bothered Xander at all. Now, though, that single sentence,  _"I feel like I never left Sunnydale_ ," was making him physically sick.   
  


Xander pushed back from the computer desk, stood, and paced to the giant map tacked to the second bedroom/computer room wall of his apartment. He stared blankly at the colorful pushpins that marked Spike's journey, his stomach turning over with nausea. Xander knew they...  _he_  had treated Spike like crap, but the brunette hadn't realized how greatly their behavior had affected the vampire, until now.   
  


Xander knew what loneliness was like, to be surrounded by your friends and have them not remember that you're there. It had taken him years -- and a little help from Anya -- to learn to take what was offered from Buffy, Willow, and Giles, and stop waiting for more. They each had their own lives, and just because Xander was greedy for attention didn't mean they had an overabundance of time to give. Insert psychobabble where appropriate, Xander thought wryly.   
  


Crossing back to the computer, Xander prepared to do something he should have done long ago. Spike was someone with feelings just like everybody else. He had his own hopes and wishes, problems and concerns, dreams and nightmares, although most of his were on the darker side of the spectrum. On top of that, Xander  _liked_  the guy, and it was time Xander let him know it.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: I'm sorry_.   
  


A long minute passed with no response from Spike. Xander wondered briefly if the vampire had left. His name was still in the online 'Buddy' list.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Spike? You there?_    
  


Another pause, then:   
  


_cricket818: I'm here. I didn't mean to send that to you._

_thatxandershapedguy: I figured, but I'm glad you did._

_cricket818: ?_

_thatxandershapedguy: I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you were here._

_cricket818: There's no need for apologies, Xander._

_thatxandershapedguy: Yes, there *is.* You're a great guy, Spike, but I couldn't see past the Grr to find that out. I never trusted you, I didn't like you, and I didn't want you around._

_cricket818: If this is an apology, I'd hate to see your praise._    
  


Xander laughed in spite of himself. He could hear Spike's dry tone of voice as he read the words, and it made the bile in his throat a bit more palatable.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: I like you, Cricket. A LOT. And I want you to know, if you ever come back to Sunnydale, you'll be welcomed by me._    
  


Xander reread what he wrote after sending it, and groaned. He quickly added a tag line.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: We now return you to our regularly scheduled male grunting_.   
  


The brunette waited again for an infinitely long minute for Spike to respond. When he did, Xander's self-disgust vanished, and he smiled.   
  


_cricket818: *grunt grunt* Cordelia made me promise to come home for Thanksgiving. Dinner's next Thursday at the Hyperion. Do you want to come? *grunt.*_

_thatxandershapedguy: Demon turkeys couldn't keep me away_.   
  
  


**Part Eleven**    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Demon turkeys almost  _did_  keep Xander away, but a barbeque fork, an electric carving knife, and a really long extension cord took care of that problem.   
  


Xander took off work on Friday, giving him an extended weekend, and he packed a bag to take to Los Angeles in hopes he'd be invited to stay. He didn't know how long Spike would be in California, and he wanted to spend as much face-to-face time with the vampire as he could, especially knowing how unhappy Spike was, being alone while performing his heralding duties.   
  


Sometimes it struck Xander as funny that he, ardent dissident in the Buffy-and-Angel club, was concerned about another vampire. He'd made such a stink about Buffy's relationship with a vampire, then he turned around and started something with a vampire who didn't even have a soul making him "good." Hypocrite, thy name was Xander Harris.   
  


Xander pulled his car into the lot of the Hyperion hotel, and what he'd thought was a streetlight turned out to be Spike, sitting on the hood of a battered light blue pickup truck. Heh-heh. The brunette parked, climbed out of the car, and sauntered over to the glowing blond. "Hi, Cricket," he said, grinning.   
  


Spike smiled hugely, tucking the unlit cigarette he'd been playing with behind his ear. "Hello, Xander."   
  


He held out his hand and Xander engulfed it with his, giving it a brief pump before letting go. The handshake didn't seem to be enough, though, to Xander. Uncaring of the picture it presented, the brunette stepped between Spike's legs and crushed the other man to him in a hard hug. Spike's arms came around Xander's waist, and Xander felt the vampire tremble slightly, causing him to hug a bit tighter.   
  


"Welcome back," Xander said in the vampire's ear. "You were missed."   
  


The blond was blushing and wore a combination pleased-embarrassed expression when Xander released him. "Missed only by you, most likely," he said.   
  


"Yeah, but I'm the only one who counts," Xander said with a wink. The vampire became flustered and Xander laughed lightly, smacked him on the thigh, and joined him on the hood of the truck.   
  


The younger man studied Spike out of the corner of his eye. At first glance, Spike looked like he always had. He was dressed in his usual black tee and jeans, and his blond hair was gelled back. His features were still as angular as always, and eyes a piercing blue.   
  


But there were differences in his appearance, as well. The hollows of his cheeks seemed deeper and the gold glow couldn't hide the dark circles beneath his eyes. With a casual glance, Xander saw that Spike's belt was cinched super-tight, pinching the extra denim. Xander was surprised he couldn't see each of Spike's ribs, but the tee he wore was loose, whether purposely or not was the question. Xander thought that Spike's no longer having the chip would cause him to feed more, but it looked like he was eating even less.   
  


"So, how was the trip back from Finland?" Xander asked, filing his questions away for a later time.   
  


"Not so bad," Spike replied. "Ehrick -- warrior number 27 -- gave me a lift to Ivola instead of my having to take the train, so that cut the trip in half. The flight here was bloody long, though, and I had to sit on the effin' floor for the last leg of it, from New York to LAX, because of all the soddin' holiday travelers."   
  


"That must've sucked," Xander commented.   
  


"It did," Spike said, mock pouting. "I couldn't even watch the in-flight picture or have any of those salted peanuts."   
  


"Poor baby," Xander tisked. "You know what you need?"   
  


"Sex."   
  


Xander snorted. "No, not sex. Although sex is always a good thing to have...," he trailed off as intimate images flashed suddenly through his brain. Images of Spike's naked glowing body arching beneath Xander, those blue eyes hazy with desire.   
  


Xander shook his head, hard, jolting the naughty pictures from his mind. He'd never thought of Spike that way before, naked and writhing under him, begging for his touch. Lips bruised ripe red from kissing. Dark hickies marring the column of that pale neck. Wrists pinned to the pillow, unable to move, completely at Xander's mercy...   
  


Xander made a strangled sound and hopped quickly off the truck. Back to Spike, he untucked his shirt and hoped it hid the raging boner he now sported. This was so not good, Xander thought frantically. So very, very not good.   
  


"Xander, you okay, mate?" Spike asked, putting his hand on the brunette's shoulder after sliding off the truck.   
  


"Yeah," Xander laughed nervously. "I got a cramp. From sitting in the car too long. Bad leg cramp." He clutched his thigh in fake pain. "Ow."   
  


"I've had those a time or five. They're a bitch." Spike clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Best you can do is try and walk it out."   
  


"Right, walk it out." More like run screaming into the night, Xander thought, hobbling towards the hotel's door. He wondered when it was he'd forgotten how to disguise the fact he was rock hard beneath his trousers. Somewhere between year three and four in his relationship with Anya, possibly.   
  


Xander was last to arrive because of the demon turkeys, and it was close to the time dinner was to be served. After receiving a tongue-lashing from Cordelia, he said a fast hello to everyone, then made a bee-line for the restroom to "freshen up."   
  


"What in the world is going on in that sick mind of yours?" Xander asked his reflection in the mirror above the sink. "You don't like other guys that way, especially guys who are your friends."   
  


Confident that he wouldn't further embarrass himself, Xander left the restroom and joined the group gathered around a beige table-cloth covered dining table in the hotel's dining room. Spike's smile was friendly as he motioned for Xander to sit beside him. Angel was at one end of the table and Cordelia at the other. Wesley and Gunn were seated across from Spike and Xander.   
  


Food enough for an army -- or for Xander and Gunn, with a bit extra for the others -- was spread over the table. Traditional turkey of the non-demonic variety had been sliced thinly. There was mashed potatoes and yams, green bean and onion casserole, asparagus, spinach salad, stuffing, fluffy rolls, orange fruit Jell-O, cranberry sauce molded in the shape of the can it came out of. The fine china had been used, gold rimmed plates and real silver silverware, crystal water goblets and wine decanters. The one thing out of place was the bright green plastic pitcher with a piece of masking tape stuck to the side, which had written on it: 'Blood.'   
  


Once a glass of red wine was poured for everyone, Cordelia lightly tapped her glass with her spoon. "Before we start stuffing our faces, I think Angel should make a toast."   
  


"You do, huh?" Angel sighed dramatically, picked up his wine glass, and stood. "Um, well, I'll make this short."   
  


"Good, I'm starved," Gunn said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.   
  


There were titters all around as Angel gave Gunn a dirty look. "As I was saying," the dark-haired vampire continued, "a toast: with a family like this, I'm surprised I haven't taken up sunbathing."   
  


"Angel!" Cordelia exclaimed as Spike and Gunn booed and Wesley and Xander laughed behind their hands. "If you can't do it right, someone else will!"   
  


"Oh, good," Angel said, sitting.   
  


Cordelia looked like she was going to blow her top any second. Xander surreptitiously started to move sharp objects away from her. Spike came to the rescue by standing and raising his glass.   
  


"A real toast, everyone," the blond said. "I've been gone for six months, thereabouts, doing my job the Powers chose me to do. It's difficult, it's lonely," his gaze dropped to Xander, "and if it wasn't for you taking the time to email and chat with me, I might have quit, and the world would've suffered." Spike abruptly looked at everyone else seated around the table, encompassing them in the statement. "So, er, to family."   
  


"To family," the others echoed, lifting their glasses in response.   
  


Spike retook his seat and leaned over to whisper to Xander as Gunn began passing the food. "Well, I feel like a smegging poof."   
  


Xander gave Spike a tight smile, instead of gathering the blond to him and holding tight, like he would Anya when he became emotional. The food came around, and Xander dished it on his plate automatically. Again, he was feeling things that were a little deeper than what a friend should feel for another.   
  


Out of the corner of his eye, Xander watched as Spike gulped down a full glass of blood without pause, then pour himself a second glass and do it again. Xander didn't know about vampire physiology, but if Spike were human he'd make himself sick eating so fast. "Hey," the younger man said quietly, putting a hand on Spike's forearm. "Slow down. There's more blood in the kitchen, I'm sure."   
  


Spike glanced at him, chagrined. "Yeah, you're probably right." The vampire set the glass down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and struck up a conversation with Angel. "Tell me, Pops, how goes it with your Second, Lindsey?"   
  


Gunn and Wesley snickered as Angel growled, "Don't say that name in my hotel."   
  


Spike's brow shot up. "Trouble in paradise?"   
  


"I can't stand the little shit," Angel ground out.   
  


Spike looked at Xander, grinned widely, then looked back at Angel with a blank face. "Really?"   
  


Xander tried not to choke on his food in laughter. Cordelia's smirk wasn't helping any. Luckily, Wesley and Gunn were deep in their own conversation, ignoring everyone else.   
  


"He's smart-mouthed, he's annoying, he won't listen to me or do anything I say. He aggravates the hell out of me. And he's... he's... he's short!" Angel sputtered irately.   
  


"Short, huh?" Spike tisked. "How awful." He ducked under Angel's swing, laughingly.   
  


"It's not amusing," Angel snarled.   
  


"Is, too," Spike countered.   
  


"Is not," Angel stated, giving the blond a long look. "I already have you, I don't need your human twin, especially since I can't just beat him into behaving."   
  


Spike slumped in his chair and pressed his hands dramatically over his heart. "You wound me."   
  


"I'm  _going_  to wound you," Angel said calmly.   
  


Spike puckered his lips and fluttered his eyelashes at the older vampire. Angel leaned forward threateningly, and Spike squeaked, turned on his chair, and buried his face against Xander's chest. "Help!" he mock-cried.   
  


Xander curved an arm around Spike's shoulders, trying not to notice how thin they were, and played along. "You leave him alone," he scolded.   
  


"Still the White Knight rescuing damsels in distress, eh, Xander?" Angel said, smirking.   
  


"Oi!"   
  


"You bet your big tushie," Xander replied to Angel. "I specialize in protecting tiny blonds."   
  


"Oi -- again!" Spike raised his head and glowered at Xander. "'M'not tiny."   
  


With his face inches away, the circles under Spike's eyes were even darker, his lightly glowing skin taut over the fine bones of his cheeks. His blue eyes were sharp and full of life, however, and the world shifted under Xander's seat.   
  


Xander abruptly pushed Spike away, though not roughly, and cleared his throat. "You are tiny," he said gruffly, reaching for the pitcher of blood. He topped off Spike's glass and foisted it at the blond. "Drink that. All of it."   
  


Spike appeared befuddled, but he accepted the glass and drank the blood under Xander's watchful eye. When the glass was empty, Xander refilled it with the remainder of the pitcher's contents, set the pitcher aside, and went back to his meal, his cheeks burning from his over-protective actions.   
  


The rest of the meal was spent with Xander feeling extremely self-conscious. He almost cheered when dinner was over, and eagerly volunteered to help clean up over the protests of his being a guest. He needed to be busy and away from Spike for a little while.   
  


Xander hadn't expected Thanksgiving to turn out like it had. Actually, he had planned on volunteering for dish duty, but in his mental scenario it was Spike, and not Angel, who assisted him. Spike had gone upstairs to fix up a room for Xander, who, as anticipated, had been invited to stay through the weekend.   
  


Angel was a quiet dishwashing partner, for which Xander was grateful. His mind was in too much of a tangle to try and make small talk.   
  


Xander had known Spike in some way, shape, or form for seven years --  _seven years_  -- and never had the blond affected him so greatly until today. Spike had gone from the enemy, to the annoyance, to the pest, to a friend, to... something Xander refused to put a label on, because that would make it true. "Why does Spike have to have such blue eyes?" he muttered.   
  


"I've asked myself that question a million times," Angel said, startling Xander. "I've spoiled that boy rotten because of those baby blues, and that was back when I was an evil bastard."   
  


Xander gnawed on his lower lip, wondering if he could talk to Angel, as they continued washing the dishes. The brunette vampire wasn't his favorite person, but he couldn't see trying to talk to Cordelia about his odd feelings, and his Sunnydale friends were most definitely out. Angel would be honest, probably bluntly so, since they didn't really get along.   
  


Xander handed Angel a washed crystal water goblet. "Um, Angel?"   
  


"Hmm?" Angel carefully dried the goblet, thankfully not looking right at Xander.   
  


"Would it be... weird... if I said I liked Spike?" Xander ventured awkwardly.   
  


"No. He's very likable when he's not being an ass," Angel replied. He gave Xander a sidelong glance. "But I have a feeling you mean 'like' in a way that involves mood lighting."   
  


Deft vampire reflexes caught the crystal goblet before it hit the floor. Xander reddened in embarrassment. "Good catch," he mumbled. He picked up a fork and scrubbed it vigorously with the sponge. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he asked, "It's, uh, that obvious?"   
  


"To me, yes, but Spike is my son," Angel answered. "To the others... maybe Cordelia. Doubtful Gunn and Wes."   
  


"And Spike?"   
  


A smile played on Angel's lips. "I think he's hopeful that you do."   
  


Xander nodded slowly and returned to scrubbing dishes. He knew Spike liked him in  _that_  way, he had known it for awhile. The blond had never pushed, though, for reciprocation, nor actually verbalized his attraction to Xander, but the brunette knew the attraction was there.   
  


"But I don't like guys like that," Xander said suddenly as Angel hung up the dishtowel.   
  


"Neither did Spike," Angel responded and walked out of the room.   
  


The unspoken "Until you" hung in the air long after Xander vacated the kitchen.   
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Twelve**    
  
  
  


Spike gave his bed a loving look as he stripped out of his clothing. He couldn't wait to slip between the clean sheets and have a good sleep for once. No lumpy mattresses in strange hotels, no sheets with unidentifiable stains, no need to keep an ear out for the cleaning person or a guest having been assigned the room. And all that had been when he was lucky enough to stay at a hotel. The rest of the time he slept with one eye open in whatever moving vehicle he hitched a ride on, hoping no one chose the seat in which he was sitting or step on him if he was stuck on the floor.   
  


Spike padded naked into the bathroom for a shower, another luxury and the second he'd taken since he'd arrived at the Hyperion this morning. The strong water pressure and unlimited hot water was heaven, just like the bed and the ensured privacy and the availability of as much blood as he wanted.   
  


It was good to be home.   
  


The blond groaned softly in pleasure as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower. The water sluiced down his body, sliding along the ridges and hollows, warming his constantly cool skin. Spicy smelling shampoo removed all traces of gel from his too-long hair. A real bar of unscented soap, rather than the free perfumed hotel cake-soaps he had been stuck with so far, was used to lather his glowing limbs, tinting the incandescent soap bubbles gold.   
  


Hot water beating on his back, Spike closed his eyes and conjured up the memory of the post-dinner game of Trivial Pursuit. He wrapped soapy fingers around his burgeoning erection as he pictured Xander's ruthless determination to win the game. He pictured the way Xander's face scrunched as he searched his brain for an elusive answer. The way he sucked the salt from the peanuts he was eating off of his fingers. The private wink he'd given Spike near the end of the game, smiling happily as he answered a trivia question that they had debated about over email a month ago.   
  


Turning, Spike rested his forehead on the cool tile shower wall, spreading his legs for better balance. His hand stroked firmly, the soap aiding his quest for self-satisfaction. With a twist of his wrist, he buffed the head of his shaft on each upstroke, calloused palm lightly abrasing the super-sensitive flesh.   
  


Eyes still closed, he imagined it was Xander's large hand tugging his cock. He moaned. Wiping his other hand on his stomach, Spike reached behind him and slid a soapy digit between his cheeks. He moaned again, louder, as his finger breached the tight ring of muscle and slipped inside. He pushed a second digit inside the grasping channel, and began to thrust his fingers in and out as he masturbated.   
  


"Touch me, Xander," Spike panted against the seafoam-colored tile of the shower stall. "Touch me, ohhhh, please... love me... love me, Xander, love me..."   
  


Spike came with a sob, splashing the wall with his sticky semen.  _Love me_. He sighed, his hands falling to his sides. If only, he thought, stepping under the shower spray to rinse clean.   
  


*****   
  


Xander poked his head around the door, no one having answered his knock. "Spike? Are you in here?" he called, venturing tentatively into the suite.   
  


After the dishes had been washed and over the remainder of the evening, Xander had decided that it was all right to like Spike in a "mood lighting" manner. Xander lived in the twenty-first century. He was up with women loving other women and men loving other men. He'd voted to legalize same-gender marriages. He was open-minded to the idea that men having sex with other men had to feel good, or else they wouldn't be doing it.   
  


Okay, no, that still wigged Xander. Not the peripheries of sex, such as handjobs or blowjobs, but the actual back door lovin'. Getting fingered by Dr. Benjamin never did a thing for Xander, besides make him blush.   
  


But Xander was going to be open. He'd try it at least once before passing judgement. Besides, things with Spike may never get to that point. They'd only kissed one time, briefly, and that was half a year ago. Plus, the kiss had been pretty damn bad, and if all of them were like that, it would be a real short relationship.   
  


The bathroom door opened, and Xander turned in that direction. "Sorry, Spike, I didn't know you were--," the brunette's eyes landed on Spike, "--naked."   
  


Spike stood in the bathroom doorway, looking like a naked glowing deer caught in the headlights. He had a towel, only it was wrapped around his head, turban-style, rather than his waist, leaving him naked. Completely, totally naked.   
  


_Naked_.   
  


It wasn't as arousing as Xander thought it would be. But that probably had to do with the way Spike looked naked. The fact that Xander, Jr. was stirring at all meant that Naked Spike did something for him. Only... "Jesus H. Christ, Spike, you look like one of those glow-in-the-dark skeletons people hang out for Halloween."   
  


Naked Spike moved suddenly, yanking the towel from his head and holding it in front of him. "Sod off," he grumbled, crossing to the dresser and pulling on a pair of those ridiculous white briefs he favored.   
  


"What the hell have you been doing to yourself?" Xander asked in anger and worry as he stalked over to Spike. He grabbed the vampire's boney shoulders and forced the blond to face him. "Gods, Spike, a good, stiff wind would blow you away." Or break him into a million pieces, he looked so fragile.   
  


"It's none of your business," Spike said, glaring at Xander and twisting the towel in his hands.   
  


"I'm making it my business," Xander snapped. "You have circles under your circles under your eyes; you make a skeleton look fat; and earlier you were drinking blood like a starving man." His gaze shifted slightly. "And what is up with your hair? Did you get a perm or something?"   
  


"The curls are natural," Spike ground out between clenched teeth.   
  


And that's when Xander saw the glint of tears in Spike's eyes. He silently cursed his callousness. Something obviously wasn't right with the vampire and, instead of asking with concern, he was berating Spike.   
  


Xander took a calming breath and relaxed his grip on Spike's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said, lightly brushing his thumbs against the blond's sharp collarbones. "I shouldn't have yelled. But you don't look very good, Cricket, and you haven't mentioned in any of your posts that you're sick or something. I'm surprised Angel hasn't chained you to a fully stocked fridge."   
  


"He threatened to, but I made him drop it," Spike mumbled.   
  


"Well, I'm not dropping it," Xander told him. "Now, talk."   
  


Spike shrugged, lowering his head. "Nothing to talk about. My job's just a tad harder than I thought it would be."   
  


"How?"   
  


The blond fiddled with the towel in his hands. "I'm on the move most of the time, and there isn't always a way for me to get blood," he replied. "And being invisible means I have to be constantly on guard, so I don't get sat on or stepped on, or have window shades opened in the middle of a sunny day."   
  


"I bet the money's bad, too, huh?" Xander teased gently.   
  


"Yeah," Spike agreed dully.   
  


Xander sighed. "You're going to have to take better care of yourself, Spike. I like having something to hold onto when I'm screwing someone into the mattress."   
  


The blond's head shot up, wild damp curls flying everywhere. Xander didn't think Spike's eyes could get any larger. A small smirk tugged up a corner of Xander's mouth. There was one way to find out...   
  


Xander didn't hesitate when he dipped his head and pressed his lips against Spike's. The kiss was soft. Gentle. Almost chaste.   
  


Xander felt the towel drop onto his feet, and he instantly remembered that Spike was naked. No, not naked; Spike was wearing white BVDs.   
  


And suddenly Xander was turned on, faster than a flick of a switch.   
  


Oh gods, he had a kink. Oh  _gods_ , Spike's mouth was opening beneath his, kissing him back. With tongue.  _Oh gods_.   
  


Xander dove into Spike's mouth, tasting him, teasing him into retaliation. The vampire thrust his hands into Xander's hair, rose up on his toes, angled his head and fused their mouths together. Their tongues danced a lovers' dance, though someone had to lead. In the end, it was Xander's desperate need to catch his breath that allowed Spike to win.   
  


"Holy shit," Xander panted, then sneaked in for another kiss... or two... or three.   
  


Or four.   
  


He tore his mouth away from Spike's, gasping, "Aah... must... breathe..."   
  


"Breathing's highly overrated," Spike said, and kissed him again.   
  


Xander whimpered and dragged the blond flush against him. The only thing now separating them was Xander's clothes and Spike's BVDs. Groan.   
  


The younger man firmly put Spike away from him this time. "Breath... me... do... yes... now," he panted.   
  


Spike may not have needed to catch his breath, but the dopey smile and glazed look in his eyes proved he was not unaffected. It made Xander want to kiss Spike again. So he did.   
  


"Mearghaaa," Xander gurgled,  _really_  pushing Spike away this time. If he didn't stop, what was left of his brain would dribble out his ear.   
  


Spike stood across from the brunette,  _in his underwear_ , wobbling slightly. Or was it Xander who was wobbling? Or was the world wobbling on its axis?   
  


"Much better than the first kiss," Spike commented.   
  


"How can you... sound so rational... and not fall down?" Xander asked, still breathless. Whatever moron said just to breathe through your nose when kissing obviously had never been kissed like  _this_.   
  


"Vampire secret," Spike replied, then grinned ruefully. "Just don't ask me to move from this spot. I don't think my knees work."   
  


Xander laughed. Then he kissed Spike again. Breathing was overrated anyway.   
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Thirteen**    
  
  
  
  
  


Spike's footsteps thundered on the stairs as he ran down them. Streaking across the lobby for the phone on the registration counter -- he didn't have one in his room -- he punched in Cordelia's number and waited for her to pick up.   
  


"This had better be important," Cordelia growled over the phone line.   
  


"He kissed me!" Spike exclaimed ecstatically to his best friend. "An open-mouthed, tongue-probing, wet bloody-effin'-smacker."   
  


"I take it you liked," she said dryly.   
  


Spike propped an elbow on the counter and leaned his cheek on his fist. He sighed, a glazed look in his eyes. "Yeah."   
  


"Did  _he_  like?"   
  


"I think so," the blond replied. "He kept at it. So, yeah. Maybe. I hope."   
  


"Do you want me to ask him if he did?" Cordelia said over the line.   
  


"No!" Spike said immediately. "Hell, no, don't do that! He'll think I put you up to it."   
  


"So?"   
  


"So it'd be bloody embarrassing," Spike replied.   
  


"So?" Spike heard the evil smirk in her voice, and scowled.   
  


"Spike, why are you in the lobby in your underwear?" Angel came up beside the blond, a confused frown on his face.   
  


"Fishing," Spike answered sarcastically. He waved the receiver at the older man. "I'm using the phone, dolt."   
  


"In your underwear?"   
  


"Yes, in my underwear," Spike repeated with impatience. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm using the phone."   
  


"You're in your underwear in the lobby?" Cordelia giggled, obviously listening in.   
  


"This isn't one of those 900-numbers I'm going to pay through the roof for, is it?" Angel said disapprovingly.   
  


"1-900-WANK-OFF," Spike said loud enough for Cordelia to hear. He shoved the receiver by Angel's ear. "Have a listen."   
  


"I don't want to listen," Angel protested, trying to move his head away from the phone. He froze suddenly, his eyes widening and a blush spreading across his cheeks. He swallowed thickly.   
  


Chuckling, Spike put the phone to his own ear again, catching the tail end of what Cordelia was saying.   
  


"--scratch my nails down your muscular chest, raising welts as I ride you as hard as you're making me wet," Cordelia purred in his ear.   
  


Spike cleared his throat, arousal stirring in his underwear. "Sounds good, pet."   
  


Cordelia laughed. "Did I get Angel?"   
  


"Yeah, you got him all right," Spike said, watching as Angel disappeared up the stairs. "He's going to his room to toss off."   
  


"That's yummy imagery for me to dream about."   
  


"Cordelia!"   
  


"What? Do you want me to dream about you in your undies instead?"   
  


Spike sputtered.   
  


"I'll probably be dreaming about you and Xander playing smoochie-face," she said. "Mm, yeah. I like that."   
  


"I'm hanging up now," Spike told her.   
  


"Okay. Bye. Kiss Xander sloppily for me."   
  


"I plan on it," he said.   
  


And he did. Over the next few days, Spike kissed Xander sloppily many, many times. And when they weren't kissing, they were talking, or Xander was forcing blood down Spike's throat. It felt nice to be cared about after months of being on his own. Spike didn't mind Xander's fussing, which included making sure he got plenty of sleep. By the time Sunday night rolled around, he had gotten rid of the dark circles under his eyes and had put on seven pounds.   
  


But now Xander was returning to Sunnydale after dropping Spike at LAX for his flight to New York and then on to Europe. Spike didn't want to leave, nor did Xander want him to go.   
  


"Promise me you'll eat," Xander said, the car parked in an unlit area of the airport parking garage. His youthful features were hidden in the shadows, but Spike could hear the worry in his voice. "If I'm going to try this 'gay' thing out, I want to brag that my boyfriend is sexy as sin, not as skinny as a rail."   
  


"I will," Spike promised, gently squeezing the hand clasped with his on the seat between them. He had no real control over when he fed, but he would when he was able. "You watch your back. I want to brag that my boyfriend is  _alive_."   
  


Xander chuckled softly. "Will do."   
  


A sad silence descended in the car. Spike watched the clock on the dash creep closer to the time his flight took him away from Xander. Finally, he could not postpone leaving any longer. "I have to go," the blond said.   
  


"I know." Xander gave him a half-hearted leer. "Give us a kiss."   
  


Spike folded a leg under himself in order to get closer to Xander in the tight confines of the car. He cupped Xander's face between his palms and brought their lips together. The kiss was bittersweet, a new relationship coming to a partial halt too soon.   
  


"Goodbye." Spike whispered, and was out of the car and walking quickly away, leaving Xander behind.   
  


*****   
  


Life hadn't changed too much since Xander and Spike became a couple. "Other than the fact that I am certifiably insane," Xander muttered, scrolling down the page on the computer screen. Their chats and emails were a little more flowery, peppered with "miss yous" and "kiss yous." Double entendres were heavy in almost all the posts, but the naughty talk stayed implied.   
  


Until yesterday.   
  


Yesterday, online, Spike had flat-out asked Xander if he wanted to have cybersex.   
  


Xander's first reaction had been sputtered laughter. Then he found that Spike was serious, and he freaked. He'd never had cybersex before, for one thing. For another, he didn't know if he was ready to take the step towards any type of sex with Spike yet.   
  


Well... that was kind of a lie. Xander had been ready and able to bed the blond over Thanksgiving. He could have easily tossed Spike down and kissed each protruding rib on that too-skinny body. Xander could have played the comparison game, finding the similarities and learning the differences between making love to a man as opposed to a woman. He could have held the fragile-looking vampire in his arms as they curled together in sleep. Xander could have... but he hadn't. Their relationship was too new and, in spite of kisses that left Xander weak-kneed and breathless, he hadn't fully accepted that it was okay to want another male sexually after decades of being straight.   
  


And that was why Xander was surfing the Internet today, reading everything he could about bisexuality and homosexuality. He'd learned a lot so far, including some things he  _didn't_ want to know. Still, he wasn't as put off as he'd thought he'd be, especially after reading some first-hand narratives of other men around his age who'd been in similar situations... although none of them were attracted to a malnourished vampire who was also the Powers' chosen Herald ushering in the first days of the apocalypse.   
  


Xander was currently reviewing an "instructional" webpage explaining the literal ins-and-outs of two men copulating. As with every other page he'd read, the word 'Condoms' was in bold, italicized, and underlined. Further down the page, he found the reference to lubricant he knew would be there. His eyes were starting to cross at the constant repetition. This page, like all the others, basically centered around one idea: if it feels good, do it -- with condoms.   
  


_cricket818: Hello, love._    
  


The AIM window popped up on Xander's computer screen, blocking what he was reading. He didn't mind. In fact, it was time to put his newly acquired knowledge to use. Anticipation swelled inside him, and caused other parts of him to swell, too.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Hey. You're on early tonight._

_cricket818: I couldn't wait any longer to talk to you._

_thatxandershapedguy: IOW: you're horny._

_cricket818: You know me so well._    
  


Xander blew out a breath of air, cracked his knuckles, leaned forward in his chair, and cannon-balled into the deep end of the cybersex pool.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Actually, I don't know you that well. I don't know if you'd shiver if I licked the rim of your ear. I don't know what sound you'd make if I sucked hard on the side of your neck, bruising you with my mouth. I don't know how you would look pinned under me on the bed, my nude body covering your naked form._    
  


Xander shifted as his Dockers became too tight, and continued typing.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: I don't even know how it would *feel* to have you beneath me, to have your parts pressed intimately to my parts. Would the hair on my legs tickle your nearly bare ones? Would I cover you completely, like a Xander-blanket? Would I squish you?_

_cricket818: Oh, gods. Xander._

_thatxandershapedguy: What?_

_cricket818: Don't stop. Keep writing._    
  


A pleased smile spread across Xander's face. This cybersex thing wasn't too bad.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Don't stop? You like me telling you that I want to take you to bed and explore that body of yours, to see if you gained or lost weight using my hands and lips and tongue? Or to find all your ticklish spots and the spots that make you whimper in pleasure?_    
  


Xander wondered if Spike was getting as aroused just reading as he was from writing.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Do you want me to touch you, Cricket? Do you want me to wrap my hand around you cock like I would my own and jag you off? Do you like it fast? Or should I go slow? Would you like it if I tugged on your nuts, squeezing them firmly? Would you like it if I touched that little patch of skin between your hole and your balls? Or would you like it more if I used my tongue?_    
  


The devil had prompted Xander to add that last bit and, despite his flaming cheeks, Spike's reaction was well worth it.   
  


_cricket818: I can be in Sunnydale in 24 hours._    
  


Xander laughed out loud.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: What would the Powers say if you abandoned your duties for sex?_

_cricket818: Fuck them._

_thatxandershapedguy: Sorry, I don't do threesomes. Or foursomes. Or five... how many make up the PTB?_

_cricket818: Xanderrrrrrr._

_thatxandershapedguy: Spiiiiiiiike._

_cricket818: I want you._

_thatxandershapedguy: I want you, too. But not yet._

_cricket818: ???_  
  


Xander sighed, adjusted his pants, and answered honestly.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Talking dirty is fine and dandy, and I do fantasize about you when I flog the log, and I couldn't kiss you enough back at Thanksgiving, and my hands itch to touch you (either that or I've waxed my pole one too many times), and I'm curious to find out if what I read is true, but... why was I saying no again?_

_cricket818: Sigh. Because you would feel piss-poor if the world ended while we were bumping uglies._

_thatxandershapedguy: There is that, too. But I was thinking more along the lines of being scared to death to take that final step into Homoland, even if the rides sound like fun._

_cricket818: And you think I'm not? I've never been with another bloke before, either, and I have 135 years on you. I'm bloody scared shitless that I'm going to suck._

_thatxandershapedguy: I'm kind of hoping you will. Nudge-nudge, wink-wink._

_cricket818: Lol. Kinky._

_thatxandershapedguy: No, kinky is me getting turned on by your underwear._

_cricket818: You get aroused by my white cotton trolleys?_

_thatxandershapedguy: Shamefully, yes._

_cricket818: So if I told you that was all I had on at the mo'..._    
  


_Sproing_. Xander popped the button on his pants... without using his hands. He groaned and gripped the edge of the computer desk as his mind conjured up the blond in his skivvies. The perverted image in his head would be better if Spike didn't look like he would break if Xander touched him.   
  


_thatxandershapedguy: Have you been feeding?_

_cricket818: Somehow I don't think that was a non sequitur. And yes, I have. Sort of._

_thatxandershapedguy: Sort of?_

_cricket818: I'm in the wilds of Russia, Xander. I'm not about to go chasing after food in the snow. I'm off to Beijing in a few days. In a city there's more blood available._

_thatxandershapedguy: Don't remind me._    
  


Brief pause, then:   
  


_cricket818: Xander, you don't think that I munch on humans, do you?_    
  


Xander was trying hard not to think about it at all, actually.   
  


_cricket818: I take it by your non-response that's a yes._

_cricket818: Just bloody wonderful. I haven't fed from a human in over six years, Xander, and I'm not about to start now._

_thatxandershapedguy: But the chip is gone._

_cricket818: So?_

_thatxandershapedguy: So you're free to eat humans again, Mr. Vampire._    
  


Xander wondered where his brain went. One minute he was having cybersex, and the next he was talking about Spike killing people.   
  


"Way to show trust, asshole," Xander cursed himself, trying to formulate something to say to Spike. The blond beat him to it.   
  


_cricket818: If you really think that I'm back to my old ways after all this time, then you don't know me at all. I've got to go. I've got a job to do._    
  


_cricket818 has logged off at 10:36 p.m.._    
  
  
  
  


**Part Fourteen**    
  
  
  


Spike threw himself into his work, heralding warrior after warrior without pause. He rarely slept, fed when he had to, and traveled even when it wasn't very safe. He shot off an email to Cordelia and Dawn every so often, letting them know he was still kicking, but he didn't stop to chat. And he completely ignored the emails from Xander.   
  


Trust was the basis of any relationship. Xander didn't trust Spike and, thus, there was no relationship. Even if the boy had professed undying love, Spike could never be with him without that trust.   
  


That lack of trust hurt badly. The old Spike would have said "smart kid." He was a vampire, after all, and vampires were notoriously untrustworthy. But now it just hurt. It was like everything he'd done over the past six-plus years didn't count for beans. It didn't matter that he'd changed. Once a killer always a killer. Only special tossers like Angel got second and third chances because a soul -- not a conscience -- made all the diffference in the world.   
  


Spike knew that eventually he'd contact Xander: masochism was, after all, his middle name. He still loved the brunette and, once it stopped feeling like he'd been stabbed in the heart, he'd give Xander  _his_  second chance. Until then, the blond would do the job for which he'd been chosen.   
  


The invisible vampire stepped off the elevator on the 42nd floor of the high-rise in downtown Tokyo. Avoiding a couple exiting their apartment, Spike walked down the spartan hallway to number 4211 and knocked. The black painted door opened and Spike immediately touched the Asian human's forehead.   
  


"Come in," the man invited in Japanese once the gold faded and Spike appeared before him. "I have been waiting for you, Herald."   
  


*****   
  


Xander stood slumped by the counter at the Magic Box, idly fiddling with a chicken's foot. The Scoobies had gathered after closing to discuss the recent rash of animal deaths in the area. They were trying to decide if the deaths were caused by human, animal, or other. An emaciated dog corpse was spread out on a newspaper on the round table, with Willow and Giles performing an autopsy while Buffy complained.   
  


Xander couldn't drum up the energy to make gross anatomy jokes. He'd been in a constant funk since Spike stopped talking to him. No matter how many emails Xander sent, or how long he sat online staring at his AIM 'Buddy' list, Spike was incommunicado.   
  


Xander felt bad for not trusting Spike, but that didn't change the fact that he  _didn't_  fully trust the blond. Spike was a vampire who'd threatened time and again to disembowel Xander when the behavior modification chip came out. For years, Spike had spouted threats and promises of gory post-chip violence on the population, the Slayer and friends in particular. Until last June, Xander had thought Spike was passing time by assisting the Scoobs, waiting for the day he could go through with his threats. Seeing that there was more to Spike than just being a vampire when they had gone to L.A. had been a huge shock to Xander. Despite nine months having passed, it was still amazing to him.   
  


Xander tossed the chicken foot in the jar with the other feet, dug into his jeans pocket, and pulled out the chip. He'd began carrying it around after the fight with Spike. It was so small, so innocuous-looking. It was odd that such a tiny thing could create so many problems.   
  


"Why can't I find a nice, normal girl to settle down with?" Xander sighed.   
  


The bell above the shop door jingled and a surprised silence followed as Angel walked in. The chip fell from Xander's suddenly nervous fingers to the floor. Oh gods, he thought, taking a hesitant step towards Angel. Oh gods, no, don't let something have happened to Spike.   
  


"Angel, hi. Uh... what are you doing here?" Buffy asked, moving in front of the souled vampire.   
  


Angel side-stepped her without a word. His face a blank mask, he came right up to Xander and stopped in front of the younger brunette.   
  


"No," Xander breathed, a sharp pain piercing his heart as he searched Angel's eyes. "No, please don't tell me he's--"   
  


Xander was interrupted by Angel's fist connecting with his face.   
  


"Angel!" the others exclaimed, shocked. Angel ignored them, his expression easily readable now -- it was twisted in pure anger. Xander waved Willow away, cupping his eye where the vampire had hit him. Xander knew Angel had pulled his punch, or else he'd be halfway across the room. Still, _ow._    
  


"Is there a reason you punched me?" he asked.   
  


Angel bent, picked up the chip, then slapped it against Xander's chest. "Do you really think the Powers would let loose an  _invisible vampire_  on the population without having some faith in him?" the older man hissed, too quiet for the others to hear.   
  


Xander dropped his gaze, ashamed. "I see what you mean." He touched his swelling eye, and added wryly, "Sort of see."   
  


"He's in the car," Angel told him, then turned to speak with an irate Buffy.   
  


Xander paused for barely a moment as Angel's words sunk in. Then, without a glance at the others, he was out the door.   
  


Glowing Spike was sitting in Angel's convertible -- and  _why_  does a vampire drive a convertible, anyway? -- elbow propped on the door and his head resting on his hand. His features were as sunken and sharp as they'd been at Thanksgiving, and Xander could see splotchy shadows -- bruises, Xander realized -- on Spike's cheek and jawline.   
  


"Spike?" Xander ventured tentatively, coming to a stop beside the car.   
  


Spike lifted his head and turned to Xander, tired blue eyes focusing on the brunette. His face lit up briefly, then a mask of indifference slid into place. There were more bruises on the right side of his face that had been hidden by his hand. "I take it Angel made you come out here," he said dully.   
  


Xander reached to touch Spike's cheek without thought and when the vampire flinched away, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut. His hand fell to his side and he took a step back. "Yeah. Angel sent me out to see you. I've seen. You look like shit."   
  


Spike chuckled humorlessly. "Thanks a lot."   
  


"What did you do? Run into a door a dozen times?"   
  


The blond lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. "One of the warriors had signed up with the other team before I scouted him."   
  


Xander forced the sudden knot of fear from his throat, and asked, "Demon?"   
  


"Human," Spike replied with a shake of his head. "Good thing, that. I'm far from peak form. Had it had been a stronger creature, I would've been carpet grit in a Tokyo high-rise. Almost didn't escape from the human."   
  


"But you did," Xander said, almost prayer like.   
  


"But I did," Spike agreed.   
  


"Let me touch you," Xander begged in a harsh whisper. He  _had_  to touch Spike. The news that the glowing vampire could have been forever gone tore at Xander's insides, more so because he realized that, if Spike was still chipped, he  _would_  have been dust. It was a painfully ironic lesson, one that Xander was glad hadn't come to fruition. Perhaps the Powers knew what they were doing after all.   
  


Spike got out of the car and Xander was practically on top of him before the car door was fully shut. The brunette slid his arms around Spike's back, under his duster, and pulled him close. Spike reciprocated the hug. His fingers dug into Xander's shoulders, and he shivered slightly in the younger man's embrace.   
  


"You haven't been eating, have you," Xander stated gruffly, nuzzling the stiff blond hair behind Spike's ear. Spike was all bones beneath his clothing. Xander was afraid the blond would break if hugged too tightly.   
  


"Don't take that self-righteous tone with me, Harris," Spike growled, pulling out of Xander's arms. "You can't be mad at me for not eating and also be upset with the thought that I can feed from humans if I wanted."   
  


"Well, excuse me for worrying," Xander said, a little angrily.   
  


"Why should you worry? You think I'm snacking on humans left and right."   
  


"I never said that."   
  


"But it's what you believe," Spike sneered.   
  


"It's a legitimate concern," Xander ground out.   
  


"Bullshit. You don't think Angel's out feeding from humans," Spike said. "What makes him so different from me?"   
  


"I'm not falling in love with him!" Xander exclaimed. He grabbed Spike by the shoulders. The bruises were more livid on Spike's face with Xander closer to him. "I don't care what he does, I care about what  _you_  do. I can't let myself fall for you if you're one of the bad guys."   
  


"I haven't been the bad guy for years, Xander," Spike said quietly, meeting Xander's gaze unwaveringly.   
  


"I know," Xander sighed, the wind going out of his sails. "This would be so much easier if it was just sex."   
  


"We would have to have sex first for it to be 'just sex,'" Spike pointed out.   
  


"True." Xander smiled mischievously. "Want to come back to my place and fix that?"   
  


"No."   
  


Xander was shocked. "No??"   
  


Spike shook his head. "As much as I want to, I won't sleep with you until you trust me."   
  


"Are you sure you're Spike, the amoral vampire?" Xander asked jokingly.   
  


"No," Spike said seriously. "I'm just the man who wants to be loved by you."   
  


*****   
  


Xander's apartment was a typical single male's apartment. Not too dirty, but not pristine. Dishes were in the sink in the small kitchen, dirty clothes were piled in the corner of the bedroom, old mags, opened mail and a few empty beer bottles were scattered around the living room and computer room. Spike looked at everything with interest, tossing his duster over a chair as Xander put the newly purchased blood containers in the refrigerator.   
  


"Nice place," Spike commented, touching a framed photograph of the core Scooby gang.   
  


"That's right, you've never been here before," Xander said from the kitchen. The microwave beeped as he punched the buttons. "Well,  _mi casa es su casa_."   
  


Spike took Xander's words at face value and wandered further into the apartment. After a curious glance into the boy's bedroom -- and a longing look at the bed -- he continued into the second bedroom.   
  


The first thing that caught his attention was the giant world map on the wall. It was covered in colored pushpins and string, like a connect-the-dots game. Spike tilted his head and closed one eye. The pattern looked a bit like a camel, if the camel was drunk and listing to one side. Moving closer, Spike noticed the string trail ended where he last talked with Xander a few weeks back. The red string hung limply from the last tack, looking almost... sad.   
  


Spotting the pushpins on the desk next to the computer, Spike finished plotting where he'd been, ending in Tokyo, Japan. It really had almost ended in Tokyo, permanently, which was why he'd come home to lick his wounds. Angel had picked him up at the airport, but instead of taking him to the Hyperion, he'd driven straight to Sunnydale. At that time, Spike hadn't known whether to be thankful or irritated at his meddlesome father. Now, he was very thankful.   
  


"Thanks." Xander came up beside Spike and passed him a warm mug. "I was wondering where you had been, but you weren't answering my emails..."   
  


"Yeah. About that--"   
  


"Hey, no big," Xander interrupted. "You're here now, live and in person, and that's much better than a shoddy email."   
  


Spike fell silent, nodded, and smiled. And the boy who was falling in love with him smiled back.   
  


Spike could hardly believe that love had come into the equation. It was like a dream come true. He felt at peace for the first time in ages. It was as if everything was finally right in the world. He was in love with Xander and Xander was in love with him. Falling in love, Spike corrected mentally. Though that was the same thing as being in love, minus the Eureka moment.   
  


Since they had argued on the street, they hadn't said much to each other. But what was there to say, really? It was wonderful just being with Xander and knowing that the boy actually cared for him as more than just a friend. Besides, sometimes actions spoke louder than words. Like now.   
  


Spike turned to Xander, slid his free hand into the brunette's thick hair, and brought their mouths together. The kiss was slow and wet. Spike immediately lost himself in the feel of Xander's lips moving against his own. The slip-slide of Xander's tongue against his. The hot breaths of air mingling in the kiss.   
  


Xander pulled away first, his lips lingering on Spike's. He sighed softly. "Guess this proves Thanksgiving wasn't a fluke," he said.   
  


"Guess so," Spike agreed, smiling at Xander.   
  


Xander smiled back, and pointed at the mug in Spike's hand. "Drink that."   
  


"Yes, sir," Spike said meekly, a humor-filled twinkle in his eyes. He followed the brunette out of the computer room and took a seat on the couch in the living room. Xander grabbed the television remote and plopped down beside him.   
  


"I have Pay-Per-View," the younger man said, turning on the television. "Feel like watching a movie?"   
  


"Sure, pet," Spike replied, sipping from the mug.   
  


Xander flipped channels until they found a movie they agreed on, and settled in to watch it. Partway through, Xander went to refill Spike's mug and, when he returned, sat closer to the blond, their thighs pressed together. Spike was surprised when Xander took his hand and began to massage it. The boy's strong fingers kneaded Spike's palm, firmly rubbing his cool skin. His fingers were not neglected, and the simple hand massage caused him to relax completely for the first time in months.   
  


*****   
  


Xander caught the empty mug that slipped from Spike's hand before it hit the carpeting. The sleeping vampire didn't twitch at Xander's sudden movement. Spike had fallen asleep not even five minutes after Xander began his hand massage, much to the younger man's amusement. The television was shut off, and Xander retrieved a blanket to cover Spike.   
  


In the few hours that Spike had been there, he and Xander had barely spoken, but it wasn't important. They'd said what was necessary on the street and when they'd first gotten to the apartment. Besides, they were men. A few grunts and scratches counted as communication.   
  


Xander ghosted his fingers along Spike's bruised cheek. The vampire really did look like crap. Again. What Spike needed was a keeper, the brunette decided. Someone to make sure he ate three squares a day. Someone to keep watch so he could sleep undisturbed. Someone to care that he was running himself ragged doing his job for the Powers, and to tell him to slow down. He needed someone to love him.   
  


Xander sighed, left Spike sleeping on the couch, and went into the bedroom. He had to get up bright and early for work in the morning, and should follow Spike's example and go to bed. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, though, not with Spike within touching distance. After weeks of no contact with the blond, having him here at the apartment was playing havoc with Xander's emotions. It was a struggle not to pounce on Spike and show him physically how much he was missed. Only Spike didn't want that. He'd made it clear on the street that sex would not happen unless Xander trusted him.   
  


"Hell," Xander muttered as he changed into his sleep-shorts. He wished there was a magickal trust pill he could take, although that still wouldn't guarantee Spike's non-killing actions.   
  


Angel was right, however. It was doubtful that the Powers would remove the chip and release an invisible vampire on the world, especially if they wanted him to work for their side, if they didn't have some faith in him. If only it was that easy for Xander to have faith.   
  


"I did have Faith, and she tried to kill me." Xander rolled his eyes. "I can't believe I just punned like that."   
  


He headed into the computer room and took a seat at the desk. After turning on the computer monitor, he typed the word "trust" into the search engine. It resulted in over a million hits.   
  


"This is going to take awhile," Xander said, opening the first link on the page.   
  
  
  


**Part Fifteen**    
  
  
  


_Cricket~_    
  


_Went to work. There's a key on the counter in case you want to go out. EAT!!! I'll be back around 6:30. If you do naughty things in my bed while I'm gone, be sure to tell me when I get home._    
  


_-X_    
  
  
  


Spike awoke late morning to an empty apartment, the drapes on all the windows pulled shut. The note was taped to the television set. He was still exhausted and, after reading the note and draining a container of blood, he shed his boots, socks, and shirt, and sacked out on the couch again. He dreamed of being naked in Xander's bed, humping one of Xander's pillows until he came on the blue pillowcase.   
  


The blond awoke the second time in the evening with a hard on and a hungry belly. He ignored both as he walked groggily into the bathroom and turned on the water taps to fill the tub. Facing the mirror, he rubbed his glowing jaw, grumbling about the still tender bruises. Bruises that would've disappeared long before now if he was at full strength.   
  


"You're a pillock," Spike told the mirror, which reflected the green shower curtain behind him. It was his own fault that he looked like an unfed glow-in-the-dark greyhound. Yeah, blood was scarce out in the sticks, but he'd been in several major cities the past few weeks. Working himself to dust was not the answer to his depression problems.   
  


He wasn't depressed anymore, though. Xander might not trust him yet, but the boy loved him. It was a step in the right direction, and "yet" was the operative word. Spike had an optimistic feeling that things would turn out peaches-n-cream. Either that, or he had gas.   
  


Chuckling to himself, Spike rooted around until he found a towel, then stripped and climbed into the tub. He hissed in pleasure as he sank into the hot water. He'd been cold for weeks, probably because he had no meat on his bones, and the heat felt divine.   
  


Spike soaked wantonly for awhile before using Xander's shampoo and soap to wash up. He wiped a towel over himself and redressed. Dragging his fingers through his damp curls, he searched through Xander's medicine chest for gel or something similar. Of course, the twit didn't have any. Sighing, Spike did his best to comb his hair back and prayed he wouldn't look like too much of a fop when it dried.   
  


Padding barefoot into the kitchen, Spike warmed a mug of blood and settled at the kitchen table. He paged through a woodcraft magazine he'd found as he drank his dinner.   
  


"Hey, sleepyhead," Xander greeted as he entered the apartment a short while later. He put his toolbelt in the closet and shucked his workboots by the door. "Don't move," he told Spike as he passed by on his way to the bathroom. "Let me clean up and I'll join you."   
  


There was a hole in the seat of Xander's jeans, Spike noticed. Plaid undergarments. Spike ogled him appreciatively.   
  


When Xander returned damp and dressed in clean khakis and a tee-shirt, he fetched a soda and a bag of pretzels before taking a seat across the table from Spike. Popping the tab on the soda, he grinned at the blond. "Nice hair."   
  


Spike reflexively put his hand to his head. He could feel the springy mass of dried curls, and sighed. "It's hard to look evil with Shirley Temple hair."   
  


"Good thing you're not evil anymore, huh?" Xander commented.   
  


"Oh, so you believe me now?" Spike said skeptically.   
  


"No, I still think you're evil," Xander replied. "You prevent me from sleeping, you turned me gay, you made me question my beliefs..."   
  


"Oi, you turned me into a shirtlifter, too," Spike pointed out. "I didn't fancy other blokes until you."   
  


A blush spread across Xander's cheeks and he concentrated intently on the pretzel in his hand. "I, uh... yeah." He crunched down on the snack.   
  


Spike snagged one of the salty twists from the bag and dipped it in his blood. He popped it in his mouth in accompaniment to Xander's disgusted noises.   
  


"That's sick," Xander said.   
  


"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Spike told him.   
  


"Let's not and say I did, and I went eew." Xander shuddered exaggeratedly.   
  


Spike shrugged. "Your loss." He picked up his mug and took a sip, watching over the rim as Xander neatly lined several pretzels on the table.   
  


"So...," Xander eventually said.   
  


"So," Spike parroted, setting the mug down at the serious tone of voice.   
  


"About this trust problem," Xander said. "I think I've found a way to solve it."   
  


"Do tell," Spike said warily.   
  


"Okay, um, last night I shot off an email to Cordelia, asking her why she trusted you," Xander began. "I got her reply this morning before I went to work. Do you know what she said? She said she trusted you because you let her paint your nails lilac. Not dark purple. Light, foofy lilac. And you wore it for a week."   
  


"I remember that. She put yellow flower decals on my thumbs, too." Spike shook his head. "Gunn called me his girl for the entire week. 'Me an' my girl are gonna bust your pasty, undead asses,'" he said, mimicking Gunn's speech.   
  


"Well, Cordelia's reply got me thinking--"   
  


"Should I hide?" Spike interrupted with an off-kilter grin.   
  


"Ha-ha. No, really," Xander went on. "I thought that if we shared something personal, where I can say 'I trust Spike because of blank,' I could... well, trust you."   
  


"What kind of blank?" Spike asked curiously.   
  


"How about a secret?" Xander suggested. "One that no one else knows."   
  


"That's why it's called a secret, Harris, because no one else knows it," Spike said dryly.   
  


"I'm being serious here, Spike," Xander said impatiently. "I really want this to work."   
  


"Okay, then," Spike agreed. "A secret."   
  


Xander nodded. "A secret."   
  


Spike tapped his finger against the side of his mug, casting his mind back through the years. He didn't have many secrets to share, especially ones that only Xander would be privy to. Plus, it had to be something which he cared whether someone knew it or not; being a vampire made him rather apathetic.   
  


"I have one," Spike finally said. "I killed someone."   
  


Xander rolled his eyes. "Duh."   
  


"When I was a human, git," Spike said with an exaggerated sigh. "I was thirteen, fourteen thereabouts, just learning what I could do with the dangly bits between my legs. My best mate, Blake, and I were down at the footbridge on Blake's property, horsing around, chatting about the ladies, stuff like that."   
  


"Doing guy things," Xander nodded sagely.   
  


"Exactly," Spike said and continued. "We were there for awhile, talking and whatnot, when Blake said something. I don't really remember what it was, but I remember I got right pissed at him. And I shoved him." Spike's eyes became unfocused as the memories unfolded in his mind. "Blake was sitting on the rail of the bridge and over he toppled. It wasn't that far of a fall, only a couple metres or so, but the riverbed was dry and the rocks were sharp. Blake's head cracked open like an egg. He died before I got back with help."   
  


Spike lowered his chin and fiddled with the mug. "It was an accident, but when his parents asked what happened, I told them he fell on his own," he said. "I never told anyone that I caused my best mate's death. After that day, I threw myself into my studies and pretty much kept to myself. I never made another close friend."   
  


He raised his eyes and found Xander gaping at him. "What?" he said uncomfortably.   
  


"I killed my best friend, too," Xander said. "That's the secret I was going to share."   
  


Spike blinked in surprise. "You're joking."   
  


"I'm not shitting you," Xander said. "Well, okay, Jesse got munched by a vampire, but I'm the one who staked him. He was my very first staking, too. Heck, it was my first face-to-face meet-and-greet with a vampire."   
  


The brunette broke eye-contact, and added more quietly, "I cried every night for almost a month. I hadn't learned that vampires-equal-bad yet, so I really thought that I murdered my best friend. Willow thinks that Buffy staked him. I never told anyone that it was me."   
  


"Must've been harsh," Spike said sympathetically. He wouldn't dare offer any false platitudes. Vampire or not, Jesse had still been Jesse, he had been Xander's best friend, and Xander had staked him.   
  


"Yeah." Xander cleared his throat and surreptitiously wiped his eyes. "So, now we each know a secret, both wiggidly similar, and we'll have to trust each other not to tell anyone."   
  


"Right. We'll have to trust each other." Spike smiled slightly, then stood and, mug in hand, headed to the sink. He felt Xander come up behind him, and his smile grew as the younger man's arms encircled him.   
  


"Cricket?" Xander said in a babyish voice, brushing his lips on the side of Spike's neck.   
  


"Hmm?"   
  


"I'm gonna kiss you silly now. Okay?"   
  


"If you must," Spike said with fake reluctance.   
  


"Oh, I must." Xander forcibly turned the blond to face him and lowered his mouth to Spike's. "I really, really must," he whispered against Spike's lips, and proceeded to do just that.   
  


Spike moaned softly, opening under the boy's oral assault. He wove his arms around Xander's neck, sliding his fingers into the brunette's thick hair. Xander held the vampire flush against his muscular body, his large, strong hands resting on Spike's waist. This was where Spike wanted to be, embraced with warmth and kissed


End file.
